


The American Football Which Kuroko Plays

by umisabaku



Category: Eyeshield 21, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umisabaku/pseuds/umisabaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his second year of high school, Kuroko Tetsuya mysteriously transfers to Deimon High School.<br/>Meanwhile, Kagami doesn't know where his team mate is, but he's heard a lot of rumors about a new quarterback called "Phantom."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The American Football Which Kuroko Plays

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the product of a summer obsessively re-reading the Eyeshield 21 manga and re-watching the Kuroko no Basuke anime. It takes place after the events of the ES 21 manga (except before the last chapter when they go to college) and after the KnB anime. It is told from the perspective of the KnB characters but set in the background of ES 21, so knowledge of both is probably necessary. 
> 
> It is a weird combination of oddly serious things and pure crack. I chose not to put archive warnings so as to not spoil anything, but if you want to be warned about both the serious things and the crack things, all those warnings will be put in the End Notes. It is rated Mature largely because of Hiruma.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Kudos are appreciated =)

Kuroko look at himself in the mirror and he hates what he sees.

What kind of school chose turquoise for the color of their uniform?

*

His first day of school and he hates everything. How old the buildings look, the sea of teal uniforms, and of course, the club recruiters.

“Basketball! Come join the basketball club!”

Kuroko shuts his eyes and wishes he could disappear.

Luckily, the shouts for basketball members are drowned out by gunfire.

“Join the number one American Football team in Japan or DIE! Ya-ha!”

“Why is Hiruma-san still recruiting for the team?”

“Sh, Monta! We need his help! We won’t make it to the Christmas Bowl if we don’t get new recruits!”

“Yeah, but I think the guns are scaring the first-years, Max.”

“We don’t need fucking pansies in Deimon!”

Kuroko wonders why so many people seem unconcerned at the sight of the machinegun-toting madman.

*

By the time class starts, he’s sick of hearing about the American Football club. By the looks of it, the club does _not_ need to worry about recruits, everyone is clamoring to join the National Championship team.

Kuroko thinks about joining the Literature Club.

*

It’s because of the three delinquents that Kuroko starts thinking about something other than how miserable he is.

He watches people—all his life he’s watched people. So he’s used to certain patterns and behavior. He picks the three guys out as delinquents when he first sees them. The dyed hair and scars are an obvious clue, but the way they carry themselves suggest a disregard for authority and regulations.

Just as easily, he knows the short, spiky haired boy named Sena has the demeanor of a gopher. Someone who runs errands for other people; a victim. Kuroko slots his classmates as natural enemies but by lunchtime, certain things are clear.

One: These four are actually friends.

Two: Against all odds, the three delinquents seem to actually _like_ the gopher. No, it’s more than that. They _respect_ him. It makes no sense, and that’s why Kuroko keeps watching. The delinquents don’t treat the smaller boy as someone weaker than they are but instead almost like a superior.

Three: All four boys—the delinquents and the gopher alike— _should_ be outliers in the classroom; in other schools they _would_ be. But instead, they’re the most popular boys in the classroom. Everyone wants to talk to them.

At lunch, Kuroko listens to the girls talk avidly about their favorite.

“I’m so glad I’m in the same class as them this year! Juumonji-kun is _so_ hot, don’t you think?”

“I like Togano-kun, he’s the nicest. I’m going to ask him out.”

“I think Kuroki-kun is the funniest.”

“Are you kidding? _Sena-kun._ Sena-kun is the best!”

“Yes, but he never has time for dates!”

“None of them do, it’s such a waste! They’re always practicing!”

“No! No, this year, I’m going to make Juumonji-kun my boyfriend, I swear!”

The girls all laugh.

Kuroko eats his lunch, quietly intrigued.

This school doesn’t fit his understanding of how people behave. This mystery draws him out of his own despair.

*

By the time school is over the mystery is solved and a new one opens up.

All four are American Football players. Their popularity stems from being starters on a National winning team. Mystery solved, with a fairly disappointing conclusion.

But now the new mystery which is Kobayakawa Sena opens up.

Because Kuroko’s _not_ wrong about Sena’s character—he’s polite, nonthreatening, and small. A genuinely nice guy. Not someone who seems like he could play a bloodthirsty sport like American Football.

(Not the kind of guy who seems like he could play any sport. Is he like Kuroko, then?)

But apparently, he’s not just a starting player, he’s the _team captain._ He’s the _Ace._ He’s Eyeshield 21, Number One runningback of Japan.

(Kuroko’s not sure what those last two titles mean, but everyone sounds really impressed when they say them.)

*

He likes to listen to them talk at lunchtime. Two other members from a different class join them. They’re short too, and Kuroko wonders if the entire team is made up of tiny guys.

“With Chuubou joining, we’ve got the line sorted out. Sawamura’s a promising kicker, and Koizumi will make a great receiver,” Juumonji says. “But we’re screwed without a new quarterback.”

“We have so many recruits,” Kuroki says. “ _One_ of them has got to be a QB.”

“We still haven’t held the entrance test yet,” Togano says. “Who knows how many we’ll have after that?”

“Huh? We’re doing that again?” Kuroki says. “But we _want_ them to join the team!”

“Hiruma-san said it was best,” Sena says. “And I agree.”

“Guuuh. We don’t have to do it again, though, right?” Monta says. “Once was enough, Max.”

“Speaking of Hiruma, he said none of the recruits make promising quarterbacks,” Juumonji says.

“What about Momoshiro-kun? He had a good arm.”

“Hiruma didn’t like him. Said he wouldn’t pass the entrance test.”

Sena sighs. “I’ve been practicing my passes—”

“No, Sena. No.”

“No, Max.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If we don’t have a quarterback we can’t play.”

“Yeah, and if we don’t have our number one runningback, we won’t win,” Juumonji says.

“You’re our Ace, Sena. The Ace’s job is to win!” Monta says.

“We need a quarterback,” Juumonji says firmly. “A good one. We’ve got to win the Christmas Bowl. I don’t want anyone saying last year was a fluke.”

“Yeah, but how do we get one? Good quarterbacks don’t just fall from the sky,” Togano muses.

They all fall silent as they wonder where good quarterbacks come from. Kuroko finishes his lunch.

*

Kuroko can’t sleep. He hasn’t for months. Sometimes he reads but mostly he just stares at the ceiling wishing he was dead.

(He knows this is unhealthy. He knows he should seek help, talk to someone. But talking about it wouldn’t fix the problem, would it?)

Tonight he thinks about something other than his own misery for the first time in months. He thinks about Kobayakawa Sena.

Kuroko has met very few men who are shorter than he is. Since entering Deimon, he’s met three, and they’re all on the American Football team.

Kuroko has never been an “Ace” and never will be. It’s never been a title he’s desired or envied because if there’s one thing Kuroko knows it’s his own limitations.

And, if he’s being completely honest with himself, he has a slight prejudice against “Aces.” But only because in Kuroko’s experience, “Ace” tends to lead to “Asshole” fairly easily. How could it not? Geniuses are on a whole other level.

So what does it mean for Kobayakawa to be an Ace who is polite, soft-spoken, small, and most importantly, loved? What kind of Ace is that?

Tonight Kuroko is curious. Tonight, he stays up online, watching videos of Deimon’s American Football matches last year.

He stays up all night. He watches every game.

*

The entrance test is held on Saturday, and Kuroko goes only because he’s curious. He overheard some first-years talking about last year.

“I heard over fifty people applied and only _two_ people were accepted!”

“Seven, technically. But five were already on the team.”

“I don’t know if I can do it…”

“ _I’m_ going to. I’m going to join this team if it kills me.”

“If the test is the same as last year, it might actually kill you…”

So Kuroko wants to know what the entrance test _is_ that would only take two newcomers out of fifty.

The bus that takes them to Tokyo Tower confuses him. The test itself even more so.

 _Climb_ Tokyo Tower with ice cubes? On the hottest day? Make it to the top with ice and you can join the team? What does any of this have to do with American Football?

He’s not the only one confused. Some are very vocal about it. Some quit right there.

Kuroko _should_ walk away. He has no intention of joining Deimon’s American Football club.

He’s not sure why he fills a bag of ice and begins the ascent up Tokyo Tower. Even less sure why when he encounters the traps that melt ice.

“Do they _want_ people to join their club or not?” Kuroko overhears someone demand.

When Kuroko reaches the top he thinks he’s dying. All he has in his bag is water, so he hasn’t passed. When he catches his breath again he’s going to walk down and get the hell out of here. American Footballers are crazy.

“This is _insane,_ ” a first year yells, throwing his bag of water onto the ground. “What does this have to do with American Football?”

“Momoshiro-kun,” Sena begins.

“I was the Ace on a championship winning team in middle school!” Momoshiro yells. “You should be _begging_ me to join your team. I turned down three scouting offers to go to this stupid school. Do you want me on this team or not?”

“Sure,” Hiruma says, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Right after you bring up some fucking ice.”

“You’re not even on this team anymore! Why are you even here?”

“Momoshiro-kun, every current member of the Deimon Devilbats passed this test,” Sena says firmly.

“Except Taki,” Monta interjects.

“Not so, Monsieur Monta! I have brought the ice this year!” Someone twirls around, holding a bag of ice.

“It’s only your first try,” Sena says encouragingly. “The second or third climb _is_ usually easier. You know where the traps are now.”

“Forget it, I’m not doing this again,” Momoshiro says. “Make me a member now or I quit.”

Sena looks resolute—showing a side Kuroko has only seen by watching old games online. “Bring up the ice and you pass. That’s the only way.”

“Then I’m gone. I’m not going to waste my time on this crazy team. You probably only got lucky last year anyway.” The First Year storms off.

“Told you he wouldn’t make it,” Juumonji says.

Sena sighs. “He _was_ out best chance at a quarterback.”

"Yeah, but a guy like that would never make it on the Devilbats,” Monta says.

And Kuroko gets it. The point of the test. It makes sense now.

Bizarrely, he likes it. No, he _loves_ it. For the first time in months he feels excited. He _wants_ something again. He wants _this._

He sighs, picks himself up, and begins the walk down to get more ice.

*

Kuroko makes it on his seventh try—long after everyone else has either made it or quit.

He arrives just as Sena says, “I guess we should call it quits.”

“I want it known that I was the first one with ice!” a girl says.

"Taki-senpai beat you.”

“The first _first-year_. I beat _you,_ Chuubou, never forget it!”

“Not by much!”

Kuroko is pretty sure he’s dying. He collapses at their feet, holding his ice.

They look at him in surprise.

“We have another one!” they cheer. “That makes four new members!”

Four? Only four people made it?

“How long were you here?” Monta asks. “I don’t remember you.”

Kuroko whimpers. If he can’t prove he was here from the start the whole thing was wasted.

“Actually, do you even go to our school?” Togano asks. “I don’t recognize you at all.”

“You wouldn’t know _all_ the First-Years,” Kuroki scoffs.

“I think he’s a Second-Year,” Juumonji says.

“Actually, I think he’s in our class,” Sena says.

“Huh?”

“HUH?”

“HUUUH?”

“He is not,” Juumonji says.

“Yes—um, Kokoro-kun, right?”

Kuroko is still dying. His lungs and legs are on fire and he hurts all over. He can’t muster the basic energy to correct Sena’s mistake so he just grunts instead.

“Well, you made it!” Sena says excitedly. “He’s just like Yukimitsu-senpai! This is perfect!”

Kuroko doesn’t know what that means so he just grunts/whimpers again.

“Check your eyes, fucking shrimp,” Hiruma says. “He’s nothing like the fucking baldie.”

Kuroko works up the energy to sit up. The devil of Deimon is staring at him.

He’s heard some crazy things about Hiruma Yoichi. People speak of him in hushed whispers and avoid saying his name, like it might summon him from the dark if they do. If half the rumors are true, Hiruma owns the Principal’s soul and he has dirt on everyone. Kuroko only knows he led Deimon to victory last year and that the only reason he’s not playing now is because Third-Year students aren’t allowed. And that Hiruma owns a lot of guns.

Seeing him now, Kuroko figures out something else. Hiruma Yoichi is _smart._ Coach could look at anyone’s body and see their stats in numbers. Hiruma looks at Kuroko the way _she_ used to—like he can read his body.

“You’re an athlete,” Hiruma announces. “What sport did you play?”

Kuroko meets Hiruma’s gaze defiantly. There is literally nothing left of him that Hiruma could exploit. Kuroko has already sold his soul; he has no fear of devils now. “Basketball.”

Hiruma grins—a menacing, sharp-toothed expression that somehow makes him even scarier. “The fucking shrimp got your name wrong, didn’t he? What is it?”

“Kuroko Tetsuya.”

Hiruma throws his head back and _howls_ with laughter. Every member of the Deimon Devilbats looks on in terror and confusion.

“You’re the fucking Phantom Sixth Man!” Hiruma yells. “The Shadow of Seirin!”

(“That’s incredible Max!”

“Have you heard of him, Monta?”

“No, but it sounds really cool, doesn’t it?)

Kuroko doesn’t say anything. He reveals nothing. It takes all his years of practice, but he keeps his face blank.

This makes Hiruma grin wider. “Devilbats, this here is what a four time championship winning basketball player looks like.”

The Devilbats look at Kuroko, impressed.

“Why are you at Deimon?” Hiruma asks.

“Is my answer a condition for joining the team?” Kuroko asks politely.

Hiruma tilts his head. “No. Have you ever played American Football before?”

“Never.”

“Ever hold a football?”

“Not even once.”

“Do you know the rules?”

Kuroko nods his head. “I watched Deimon’s old games and a few informative commercials. I believe I have the gist of it.”

Hiruma nods. “Alright. You’re in.”

A short First-Year says, “Hiruma-senpai, why him and not Momoshiro-kun? He’s played games before.”

“Idiot. Anyone can learn how to play.” Hiruma doesn’t take his eyes off Kuroko. “You know what this test was about, don’t you, fucking phantom?”

Kuroko inwardly sighs as he accepts that “fucking phantom” is most likely his name now, as far as Hiruma is concerned. “You were testing for tenacity.”

“That’s right. We can teach you how to play American Football, but only determination will allow you to win. We don’t want fucking quitters in Deimon.”

“So—do you know what position you can play?” Sena asks.

Kuroko nods his head.

Once upon a time, he thought the worst thing to be was a shadow without a light. That’s why he glommed onto the best player at Seirin so quickly.

Now he knows better. Now he knows the worst thing is to have a light but not be a shadow.

Kagami is his light. If he can’t be Kagami’s shadow, then Kuroko doesn’t want to be a shadow at all.

“I think I want to try playing quarterback,” he says.

*

About once a week Kagami has dinner with his enemies and thinks, Jesus Christ. This is my life now. Eating with the goddamn Generation of Miracles.

They begin popping up in his life like bad acne—unwanted and hard to get rid of. Even Kise is a regular visitor even though he has the furthest to travel. (Although Kagami’s willing to bet Kise wouldn’t come to Tokyo so often if Kasamatsu Yukio had gone to a different University.) At first, Kagami thought they were glorying over his misery. Eventually he realizes they were doing it _for him._ They were checking up _on him._ They _pity_ him.

He almost started crying at the realization. How sad was his life that fucking _Aomine_ felt sorry for him?

He spends an equal amount of time being thankful for their company as well as wishing they’d leave him alone. Because really, they’re just reminders of what he’s lost.

“I know where Kuroko is,” Midorima says.

Like now. At Seirin, no one mentions Kuroko’s name. It’s like he’s dead. Worse than that, like he never existed. They all eye Kagami like he’s about to explode.

(It’s Kagami’s fault—he realizes this. Those early weeks, Kagami _did_ explode whenever someone mentioned Kuroko. So he can’t blame them for keeping quiet around him. But he hates it.)

The Miracles never hold back. This is a blessing and a curse.

“No, you don’t,” Kagami replies.

Because no one knows where Kuroko is. There have been rumors—so many rumors. Ranging from plausible—“I heard his parents transferred to Kyoto” to ridiculous—“I heard he was abducted by aliens.”

Kagami’s heard them all—Kuroko is in America, Kuroko was secretly a European Prince, Kuroko married a wealthy heiress. Awhile back the popular theory was that Kuroko was a ghost all along, and that winning the Winter Cup put his soul to rest. (Kagami nearly throttled Furihata for repeating _that_ rumor. Because it was too sad, and it scared the crap out of Kagami for how weirdly plausible it was.)

Because really, whatever the truth was, it had to be something really bizarre. There’s no way Kuroko simply transferred. He would have said something. (He would have said something _to Kagami._ ) If he transferred, he’d still be somewhere, playing basketball. In the network they’d made during the Winter Cup, _someone_ would know which team he was on.

“I do,” Midorima insists. “He came to Shutoku for a practice game, and someone saw him.”

“If he was there for a practice game, why didn’t _you_ see him?” Kise asks.

“Because he wasn’t playing basketball. He was playing American Football.”

Kagami, Kise, and Aomine stare at Midorima. Then they all burst out laughing. Kise laughs so much he falls out of the chair and laughs harder.

Kagami laughs so much he has to wipe away tears. God, it’s been _months_ since he’s laughed this hard. It feels good.

“God, Midorima. The rumor about Kuroko being Kaguya-Hime and he returned to the moon was more plausible,” Kagami says.

Midorima looks murderous. He does not like being laughed at. “It’s true! I have it from a very reliable source!”

“ _Kurokocchi?_ ” Kise still chuckles. “Playing _American Football?_ This is the guy who passed out after being slightly tapped in the head.”

“The guy with zero power, zero stamina,” Kagami says. “There’s no way he’s playing football.”

“ _American_ Football,” Midorima corrects.

“All football is American football,” Kagami growls. “Anything else is soccer.”

“Can you imagine Tetsu tackling someone?” Aomine says.

“What position would he even play?” Kagami wonders. He enjoys picturing this. It’s way better than the European prince theory.

Midorima pushes his glasses up. “He plays quarterback.”

Aomine and Kagami start laughing again. Kise doesn’t watch American Football so he’s left out of the joke. Midorima’s eyebrow starts to twitch.

“It’s _not_ funny!”

“It is, it really is,” Aomine says.

“What do you know about football?” Kagami asks.

“Absolutely nothing,” Midorima sounds absurdly proud at this proclamation.

“The quarterback handles the ball more than any other player,” Kagami explains. “He’s the gamemaker—the quarterback is probably the single most watched player on the field. He draws the most attention. Even if there was some bizarre alternate universe where Kuroko played football instead of basketball, he could never be the quarterback. His style of play is too different.”

“Well maybe it wasn’t quarterback,” Midorima allows. “But it’s still true.”

“What school was he supposedly at?” Aomine says abruptly. “Was it Teikoku? No, let me guess. It was Deimon?”

Midorima stiffens. “It is Deimon. How did you know?”

Aomine snorts. “Somebody is fucking with you, Midorima. Deimon High won the Christmas Bowl last yet. It’s the single most well known American Football team in Japan right now. It would be like claiming someone was on the Seirin basketball team.”

“I’ve never heard of it. How do _you_ know so much about high school football?” Kagami asks.

“I watched some games, OK?” Aomine bristles. “I like the sport. I thought _you_ were a fan.”

“I watch NFL games,” Kagami says. “You know, _real_ football.”

“Neither of you should be watching any kind of game,” Kise pouts. “How dare you betray basketball like that?”

The conversation drifts after that. Midorima sulks the entire time and Kagami’s glad to not be talking about Kuroko anymore.

Kagami knows that whatever the truth about Kuroko is, it’s got to be unusual. Maybe not so weird as football, but weird. Kagami just wishes he had answers.         

*

Kuroko never really had a “senpai” until he went to Seirin. Not in the truest sense of the word. None of the upperclassmen noticed him his first year at Teiko, and after the Generation of Miracles accepted him as part of the lineup his second year none of the upperclassmen would have anything to do with him.

That’s why, in part, he loved the Seirin team so much. The senpai counted on the “freshman duo” but were never in awe of them. Kuroko enjoyed their camaraderie and punishments—he genuinely respected them and felt like a younger sibling, a “kouhai.” He wishes he told them just how much they meant to him.

His Seirin senpai did not prepare him well for Hiruma Yoichi. _Nothing_ prepared him for Hiruma. Or the way in which Hiruma decides to make Kuroko his personal project.

Hiruma might not be able to play in games anymore, but he hasn’t abandoned the American Football club. Kobayakawa Sena is the captain, but Hiruma Yoichi is the commander.

Kuroko thinks if it was just practice, he could probably stand Hiruma’s attentions. Hiruma supervises Kuroko’s passes, forces a strict training regimen on him, and is not above shooting at Kuroko’s feet as a motivator.

(Kuroko, privately, hates the fact that all things considered, American Football comes rather easy to him. After all, learning how to throw a pass is not all that different from what Kuroko is already _good_ at. Kuroko went through six basketballs perfecting his Vanishing Drive, it took six years before he could reliably shoot a basket. It feels like a betrayal when American Football throws come easily. He almost, almost, quits when Hiruma grins and says, “American Football is a game for specialists. You don’t need to learn anything but how to fucking throw a pass.” Because it’s too much—and no where at all—like Kiyoshi-senpai kindly explaining what Kuroko has heard all his life—that basketball was for generalists and rarely had a place for extreme specialists like Kuroko. It felt like the fates were saying, “This is where you belonged all along” and that’s too much to bear.)

Kuroko could stand being shot at; he could stand learning pass routes and the tricks to throwing a cylindrical shaped ball.

It’s when Hiruma starts dragging him to poker games that he starts to wear down.

“You have the perfect fucking poker face,” Hiruma says, “I can’t believe no one ever taught you how to play before.”

It takes weeks of nightly poker tournaments before Kuroko realizes Hiruma isn’t just teaching Kuroko _how_ to play poker, he’s teaching Kuroko how to _cheat_ at poker.

It’s vindictively satisfying the first time he beats Hiruma.

“I can’t believe you won!” Sena says, impressed. “You _beat_ Hiruma-san! At a fair fight!”

Hiruma cackles.

“They’re both cheating, Sena,” the old kicker, nicknamed “Musashi” says.

“What?” Sena exclaims.

“Hiruma’s counting cards and Kuroko’s palming them. Or did you not notice that at one point he had five Aces?”

“Tetsuya-kun!” Sena turns on Kuroko, looking betrayed.

“In my defense, this is how I thought the game was played,” Kuroko says.

Afterwards the manager says, “Hiruma-san really likes you, Kuroko-kun.”

“I wish he liked me _less,_ ” Kuroko says darkly.

Mamori smiles. “He might not admit it, but he was really worried about who would play quarterback after him. He wouldn’t spend so much time teaching you trick plays if he didn’t think you were a worthy successor. I’m so glad you’re here, Kuroko-kun.”

Kuroko thinks about quitting every time someone tells him that.

Hiruma starts teaching him how to shoot a gun.

*

“I looked him up, Sena. His high school team won the Winter Cup last year.”

“That’s what Hiruma-san said—”

“So why is he _here?_ Why is he playing American Football? It’s weird, Max.”

“He must have his reasons.”

“If he had to transfer to Deimon, why not join the basketball club?”

“We—ell—”

“Do you think it’s just because they’re a weak team? Did he just want to join a _winning_ team? I can’t respect a guy who abandons his teammates.”

“Monta, you of all people should know what it’s like to switch sports.”

“That’s exactly why! I abandoned my dream of baseball because you guys said you needed me—”

“We need Tetsuya-kun too—”

“Yeah, but I think his basketball team needs him too.”

Kuroko rarely means to listen in on other people’s conversations. Especially when they’re talking about him. It’s the unfortunate side effect of his lack of presence.

But enough is enough.

“They did need me,” Kuroko speaks up, causing both Monta and Sena to jump in the air. “And I _did_ abandon them. If you do not wish me to be on your team, I understand.”

“We do! We absolutely do! Don’t leave us!” Sena says frantically.

“But—but—” Monta starts and Sena covers his mouth.

“We want you here, Tetsuya-kun,” Sena says. “Monta especially. We’re not going to pry into your reasons for being here.”

*

Monta is not a “light.” On the field, he doesn’t shine the brightest.

(Sena does, without question. Even then, it’s not the same. Sena is impressive; you can’t help but watch him. But he is not the strongest.)

Monta is not a “light” and Kuroko is not his “shadow” but the relationship between a quarterback and a receiver is an important one nonetheless. They practice together, endlessly. Once Kuroko perfects his throw it’s Monta’s job to learn how to catch it.

But when he’s learning how to throw, Monta just says, “I’ll catch anything you throw, so don’t worry about getting it wrong.”

It is not like having a light. But it is nice.

*

Kuroko doesn’t feel anything the first time they win a game. Or the second time, or the third. The others celebrate and he does not feel like he deserves to partake in their victory.

*

American Football is an incredibly physical sport.

The first time the Ha-Ha brothers kick him and walk away Kuroko goes flying and he wonders what he did wrong.

“A silent kick means you did a good job!” Sena explains cheerfully.

The first time they throw him in the air after a win, Kuroko fears for his life.

The first time he’s tackled, it’s the most physical pain Kuroko has ever experienced and he wonders if _this_ is why he’s playing American Football. So that he can hurt. So that he can be punished.

*

Kuroko doesn’t feel anything the first time they lose a game. Not at first.

It’s the Finals in the Spring Tournament. They’re up against the Oujou White Knights, and the game means something to Deimon. They have a friendly rivalry with the White Knights. Sena goes jogging with Shin Seijuro every other weekend.

Kuroko watched the semi-finals game in the Kantou Tournament. He thinks he’s prepared to do battle against Oujou.

He is wrong.

It is his fault they lose the game.

He miscalculates a trick play—pretends to pass to Sena and instead runs the ball himself. He thinks he understands the risk but he does not.

Shin tackles him and Kuroko goes _down._

He does not get back up.

Nothing prepares him for Shin’s tackle. He thought he’d felt pain before but it was nothing, _nothing_ to what he feels now. He can’t continue the game. Sena takes over as quarterback but it’s no good. Deimon loses with Kuroko laying next to the bench.

Sena experienced this, Kuroko thinks. Shin tackled Sena over and over again in the game, but still the runningback gets up and does it all over again.

Kuroko, who witnessed the awe-inspiring godlike talent of the Generation of Miracles firsthand, thinks Kobayakawa Sena is probably the most impressive athlete in Japan.

Deimon takes the loss well.

“We’ll get our revenge in the Fall tournament, Shin-san,” Kuroko overhears Sena tell the monster which is Shin Seijuro.

“Not this time,” Shin says. “This time, Oujou will go to the Christmas Bowl.”

“You said that last time,” Sena points out.

“Last time, you had Hiruma Yoichi. Your new quarterback is good, but he’ll only drag your team down in the end.”

Kuroko feels like he was tackled all over again.

“You’re _wrong,_ ” Sena says fiercely. Kuroko jerks at the vehemence in the smaller boy’s voice. “He’s just starting out. I couldn’t beat you when I first started playing either. He’ll get better, and he’ll take us to the Christmas Bowl. You’ll see.”

It’s only then that Kuroko feels regret.

*

He finds Sena on his own much later. It is the first time they’ve talked, just the two of them. Kuroko bows his head and apologizes formally. “I am very sorry to have caused the loss against Oujou. I wish I could make it up to you somehow.”

“What?” Sena startles. “It’s not your fault we lost! Absolutely no one thinks that!”

Kuroko thinks this cannot be true.

“Kuroko-kun, you’re the only reason we made it this far to being with!” Sena exclaims earnestly. “The Devilbats could have never made it to the Finals without you.”  

Kuroko grimaces. The Devilbats couldn’t have made it without a _quarterback._ This is the only reason why Kuroko doesn’t quit right now as contrition. If there was someone better to replace him, Kuroko would gladly cede the sport to make up for costing the Oujou game.

“Tetsuya-kun, you’re _amazing_ ,” Sena says. Kuroko looks up at him, baffled. “You just started playing American Football, and you’re already so good. In our last Spring Tournament, we got _slaughtered_ by Oujou. And we lost in our second game! I was a rookie then, and it was before most everyone else had joined. But I couldn’t do what you did, my first tournament.”

There weren’t recorded games of the first Spring Tournament. And indeed, Kuroko understood that most of the current Devilbats joined before the Fall Tournament. The loss is news to him.

“I don’t deserve your praise, Sena-kun,” Kuroko says quietly.

He plays American Football as an alternative to suicide. He does not share Deimon’s dreams, their goals. He does not deserve praise for helping them when he never cared about their victory. He can’t stand the fact that Sena defended him against Shin—he never tried to be “good” or “better” at American Football. He wants nothing more than to convey to Sena that he is a despicable person, not worthy of kind words.

Sena remains quite for awhile, like he too, struggles with what to say.

“I think,” Sena says slowly, “that you are someone who cares very much about your team.”

Kuroko flinches. This is, perhaps, the absolute worse thing Sena could have said.

“And I think, maybe, you don’t accept the Devilbats as your team yet,” Sena continues. “But you must, at least a little. Otherwise you wouldn’t care that we lost against Oujou. I hope someday you’ll be proud to call yourself one of the Devilbats.”

In many ways, it’s easy to forget that Sena is the team captain. Hiruma is still very much the ultimate authority in all things Deimon, and Sena is never going to be the kind of person who _commands._

But, Kuroko thinks, in his experience, there are two kinds of captains. The kind like Hiruma, or Akashi Seijuro, who command through fear and sheer raw talent. Those who lead because they are leaders, and could never be anything else.

Then there are captains like Hyuuga Junpei, or Kobayakawa Sena. People who didn’t choose to lead but instead were chosen by others. People who unite because they pull everyone together.

Sena pulls him now. For the first time, Kuroko wants to get better at American Football. Kuroko wants to _win_ at American Football. So that he can be worthy of Sena’s trust.

“I would like to become stronger,” Kuroko says out loud. “I do not wish to drag the Devilbats down.”

“That’s great,” Sena beams. “How do you feel about training in America?”

*

Kagami finds the postcard waiting for him after practice one day. It has an Armadillo on it, with “Greetings from Texas” scrawled on the front. He wonders what the hell Alex is doing in Texas—because who else would send him a postcard from America?—just as he turns it over.

He freezes. He’s pretty sure his heart stops beating.

Written in neat, painfully familiar handwriting, is a single line:

_Everything is needlessly big in America._

Nothing else. No salutations, no signature.

He thinks someone must be playing some cruel trick on him,

But he _knows_ the handwriting. It’s as familiar as his own messy scrawl.

He spends the rest of the day a useless mess, curled up in bed in confused despair.

Why is Kuroko in America? What is the point of this cruel message? Kuroko, who disappeared from everyone’s life like a ghost, who didn’t leave word with anyone, who left nothing behind but memories and a Winter Cup. Why reach out now? What is he trying to say? Kagami wants to fly there immediately, but even _he_ knows how impossible it would be to find a single person in Texas, with nothing else to go on but a postcard.

Especially since that person so very obviously doesn’t want to be found.

*

Kuroko knows he shouldn’t have sent the postcard.

But everything in America reminds him of Kagami. How large it is—the portions of the food, the size of the people. He can’t believe he’s in America, when Kagami is not.

He doesn’t have much time to reflect, though. He’s pretty busy dying on the Death March.

“You did this _once_ already?” Kuroko exclaims as they collapse for the night. He’s in so much pain. He can’t help but think Aida Riko would either appreciate the physical torture of the Death March or be utterly appalled at how unprofessional the training regimen is. “And you are willingly doing it again?”

“Pushing the truck is way easier this time round,” Togano muses.

“It’ll improve everyone’s stamina, Max,” Monta says thoughtfully. “You and the First Years really need this, Tetsu.”

(He doesn’t know where Monta gets the nickname from. It’s nothing like how Aomine used to say his name, though. So Kuroko figures it’s OK.)

“Monta-kun is insane,” Kuroko says.

“Well, yeah,” Monta says.

“It’s kind of a requirement for the Devilbats,” Juumonji puts in.

Kuroko can’t disagree with that.

*

The desert stars are impossibly bright—brighter and more numerous than he ever saw in Tokyo.

As he likes exhausted after the days of travel, listening to the snores of his team, Kuroko wishes—for countless things he can’t being to name.

“Can’t sleep?” Sena asks.

“I am too tired to sleep,” Kuroko replies.

Sena laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Kuroko swallows. “Why does Sena-kun never ask about my past?” he asks. He’s been wondering for awhile. Because Sena never asks, and he stops others from asking. Kuroko thought at first Sena just didn’t want to risk losing a promising quarterback, but now that he knows the other boy better, he’s sure that can’t be it.

Sena holds his knees together and looks up at the sky. “I looked you up,” he confesses. “I didn’t really know anything about basketball, so I was curious. The whole ‘Generation of Miracles’ thing really impressed me. And I was really impressed with Seirin’s victory at the Winter Cup. It reminded me a bit of Deimon. I bet there’s a whole story there that even the newspapers don’t know.”

Kuroko remains quiet.

“The sense I got—well, it’s just a feeling. But my sense is, you must really, really love basketball.”

Kuroko looks at Sena. Sena still looks at the sky. “I love American Football,” Sena continues. “I’m not like you, Tetsuya-kun. I only started playing any kind of sport last year. It would have never occurred to me that I could play any sport at all in middle school! But I’m so glad I joined the American Football club. I’m so glad I play. I think it’s fun. Even though I’ve only been playing for two years now, I can’t imagine doing anything else.

“So—I think about what it would mean for me to _stop_ playing the game that I love. I won’t be able to play next year, and I’m already dreading it. I’ll play in college _for sure,_ but that third year in Deimon is going to be hard. If someone told me I could never play American Football again, it would be like losing half of my soul.”

Kuroko gapes. Does he _know_? How does he know?

Sena looks at Kuroko, his expression solemn. “I don’t know why you’re not playing basketball, Tetsuya-kun. But I know it’s hurting you. You get the same look that Hiruma-san and Kurita-san do when they watch Deimon play without them. I’m not going to ask you why. And I’m not going to ask you to love American Football the same way you love basketball. I don’t think you could. I couldn’t, if it was the other way around.

“I just hope—I hope that if you play enough games you’ll think it’s fun. I want you to play without regrets. That’s what’s most important to me. The DevilBats need you, Tetsuya-kun. So, when this is all over, I hope you can look back on this and be glad you played American Football with the DevilBats. That’s all I want.”

That, Kuroko thinks, is asking for rather a lot. It is impossible for him to play without regrets.

“Sena-kun is very wise,” Kuroko says.

Sena laughs and stammers, “That sounded very arrogant, right? Sorry, sorry. I’m just talking out loud, I guess.”

Kuroko shakes his head. Sena is the kind of person who won’t ever acknowledge his own great points.

Kuroko looks to the skies and makes a promise.

He won’t be able to stop regretting. He will never be able to let himself forget his own betrayal.

But he will try to have fun with American Football. With the Devilbats.

*

“I’m telling you it was him,” Takao insists.

Takao doesn’t join their random luncheons very often, despite the fact that Kagami knows he’s usually inseparable from Midorima. Kagami suspects this is Midorima trying to be sensitive. Trying very hard not to rub in Kagami’s face that he still has his shadow when Kagami does not.

Takao apparently has some sort of point to prove with the whole “Kuroko’s playing American Football” thing that Kagami thought they put to bed months ago.

“Wait, wait, you’re ‘very reliable source’ was _Takao_?” Kagami asks Midorima.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Takao asks, outraged.

Nothing, really, except that Takao likes to mess with Midorima now and then and telling the green-haired tsundere that Kuroko is playing American Football sounds like the kind of prank the hawk-eyed boy would play.

“OK, I may have, in the past, told Shin-chan some things that were not completely true,” Takao acknowledges, when Kagami _looks_ at him. “But not about this! I really saw Kuroko playing American Football!”

“ _Did_ you?” Aomine says.

“We—ell. Not his face,” Takao is pressed to admit. “But it _was_ him! There was a point in my life when I studied Kuroko’s playing style rather obsessively. I wouldn’t mistake his form!”

“In _American Football,_ ” Kagami repeats.

“Yes!”

“Let it go, Takao,” Midorima says, pushing his glasses up.

“Not until you believe me!” Takao insists.

“Sure, sure, we believe you,” Kagami says, rolling his eyes.

He’s pretty sure Kise’s stopped paying attention to the conversation, because he’s doing that “subtly checking out girls” thing he does when he’s bored. Then all of the sudden the blonde lunches forward, startling everyone. “Perfect timing!” he exclaims, jumping up and waving excitedly. “Oi! Sakurabacchi, over here!”

Kagami follows Kise’s enthusiastic waving and sees a crowd of high school boys enter Maji Burger. It’s not hard to figure out which one knows Kise, because it’s the one who’s desperately trying to hide behind the other two, pretending he can’t see or hear the model.

“ _Sakurabacchi,_ ” Kise whines. “How rude!”

Kagami sees the exact moment the other boy gives in—his shoulders slump in defeat and he makes his way to their table.

“Hello, Kise,” the handsome newcomer says feebly. “Long time no see.”

“ _Far_ too long!” Kise says. “Sakurabacchi used to be an idol. We did a few photo shoots together!”

Kagami does not care. He and Aomine are starting at the former idol’s friend—a monster who gets introduced as Shin Seijuro. He’s strong. Generation of Miracles strong. Kagami’s itching for a fight against a strong opponent, and he knows Aomine’s doing the same.

“Anyway, Sakurabacchi, this is perfect. You still play American Football, yes?”

“Yes,” the former idol says weakly.

“You’re Oujou,” Aomine says suddenly. “The White Knights.”

“Yes, that’s right,” the third man says. He’s the only one not in uniform, and he’s introduced as Takami a former senpai, who graduated. Kise has apparently interrupted their reunion.

“How do you know that?” Kagami accuses.

“I told you, I watched some games last year,” Aomine says defensively.

“That’s great!” Kise says excitedly. “Do you know anything about the Deimon team?”

The Oujou kid looks surprised and Aomine hits Kise over the head.

“Idiot! I told you last time, Deimon won the Christmas Bowl. That’s like asking a team if they know about Seirin.”

“I meant do they know the _players_ ,” Kise says, pouting and holding his head.

“We do, in fact,” Takami says, giving a sly look at his companions. “Some of us know Deimon’s players _very well._ Some of us have lunch with Deimon every other week.”

“Just Monta!” Sakuraba defends. “And not just him, all the receivers of Kantou! We like to get together every now and then.”

“And it’s still weird to me,” Takami says, shaking his head. “Largely because I can’t imagine ever sitting down and having a pleasant conversation with the Kantou quarterbacks. Mind you, Hiruma, Kid and Agon would make a terrifying combination in any context.”

“So you know the quarterbacks!” Takao fixates on the relevant dialogue. “Perfect! Do you know Deimon’s quarterback?”

“Hiruma Yoichi?” Takami says, surprised.

Takao’s shoulders slump. “Oh, is that his name?”

“Unless you mean the new one,” Sakuraba says. “Phantom?”

“Right, sorry,” Takami says. “Hiruma Yoichi is forever going to be ‘Deimon’s quarterback’ in my mind.”

“Phantom,” Kagami repeats.

They’re using the English word, so only Midorima and Kagami catch the significance to “Phantom Sixth Man.”

“No one knows his real name,” Sakuraba says.

“How is that possible?” Kise asks. “His name has to appear on official game records.”

“You know, you’d think that’d be true. But the anonymity is not exactly uncommon in American Football. And it’s a very Hiruma-like tactic,” Takami says. “I can’t tell you much about the new quarterback, I never played him. Shin, you saw him up close, didn’t you? What did he look like?”

“He is a seasoned athlete,” Shin says. “I thought at first he must have been playing American Football for years, and was just not very good. But Eyeshield indicated that he was new to the sport. In which case, I believe he must have been playing another team sport for many years. Something like volleyball, or maybe basketball.”

“Yeah, but what did he look like?” Takao asks.

“Hm? His muscles were well developed through years of training. Not very strong, but fit.”

“It’s useless to ask Shin for physical descriptions, he remembers people by their muscles,” Sakuraba says. “I didn’t see much of his face. His throws are no joke, though. The Vanishing Devil Pass was impossible to intercept.”

“Vanishing. Devil. Pass,” Kagami repeats.

“He does this thing with his throw—I can’t explain it, but it makes the ball disappear just when you try to catch it,” Sakuraba explains. “Monta can catch it, though, which means it’s not impossible. Next time, I’ll intercept it for sure.”

Sakuraba mistakes the basketball players’ silence and defends, “You wouldn’t understand, since you don’t know Hiruma-san, but Deimon quarterbacks have a longstanding tradition of trick plays and bluffs. I think he misdirects the ball.”

“Is he a lot like Hiruma?” Takami ask. The Oujou teammates don’t seem to notice the baffled silent exchange between the basketball players. “He seemed pretty normal from the stands.”

“He’s the same kind of player as Hiruma, but opposite in style,” Sakuraba explains to his former senpai. “Hiruma’s bluffs were always loud and distracting. He was impossible to read precisely because he was flashy. Phantom’s the opposite—he has a true poker face, completely expressionless. You have no idea what he’s thinking, so his plays come out of nowhere.”

“Look, it’s still not him,” Kagami bursts out, startling the American Football players.

“It has to be!” Takao insists. “What else do you need? It’s got to be him!”

“It _sounds_ like him,” Kise admits grudgingly.

Aomine shakes his head, and Kagami’s thankful at least someone still sees reason. “Coincidence.”

“A little too coincidental, don’t you think?” Midorima says.

“It’s easier for me to believe all these coincidences piled up before I believe Tetsu plays American Football,” Aomine says.

“Agreed,” Kagami says.

“Call him!” Takao says, whirling on Sakuraba and scaring the American Football players (who are already looking at the basketball players like they’re nuts.) “You said you’re friends with someone from Deimon, right? You can call him here now and we’ll ask him directly.”

“It’s summer training,” Sakuraba says. “Our lunches have been put on hold while the teams train for the Fall—”

“You can still call him, right?” Takao interrupts.

“No,” Shin says, startling everyone. “Deimon’s training in America right now.”

Kagami freezes.

“ _America_?” Kise says. “Who goes all the way to _America_ for _training_?”

“Deimon does,” Sakuraba says. “Seibu too, for that matter. I forgot Monta said they were doing the Death March again.”

“Death March?” Midorima says.

“They walk from Texas to Las Vegas,” Takami clarifies.

Kagami’s heart stops. He stops paying attention to the exclamations about the impossibility of walking that far. He stops listening to the debates.

All he can think about is a postcard he has at home that proves there is such a thing as one coincidence too many.

*

Somewhere in the 2,000 kilometers, Kuroko realizes he thinks of these people as his friends.

It’s a very strange revelation.

*

They make a killing in Las Vegas. Between Hiruma and Kuroko, they make more than enough to buy everyone’s plane ticket home.

They make enough for Kuroko to start coming up with a plan. He pushes his hope down.

*

Kagami wants to check out Deimon’s football team right away, but in the end he can only make it to the second game in the Fall Tournament.

Midorima comes. So does Takao, because he still feels like he has something to prove. Aomine comes and brings Momoi, because the girl is absurdly excited at the thought of seeing Kuroko in a football uniform.

Kise also comes, thankfully by himself. Kagami already feels like the odd man out.

“Man, Deimon’s team is _tiny,”_ Kise whistles. “I thought it’d be easy to pick out Kurokocchi, but those guys are all small. Isn’t American Football supposed to be a large man’s game?”

“Their opponents are huge!” Momoi marvels. “They look like they can squash those Deimon guys with a single blow.”

Aomine snorts. “They’re up against the Fishers. Deimon’s going to slaughter them—they’re a C ranked team, at best.”

“No, seriously, _how do you know this?_ ” Kise asks.

“Am I not allowed to like other sports?” Aomine demands.

“Be quiet, it’s starting,” Midorima commands.

Kagami’s eyes are fixed on the quarterback. Within the first five minutes, Kagami sucks in his breath.

“Oi, Kagami,” Aomine says in a quiet voice.

“I know. I _know,_ ” Kagami says.

Because it’s him.

It’s undeniably Kuroko.

The others don’t realize it yet. They’re still debating amongst themselves the similarities and differences.

But even in a football uniform—even with the padding and the helmet, Kagami would know Kuroko’s form anywhere. He’d know Kuroko’s style. He’d know the way he passes. The throws are different but his form is the same. Kuroko’s moves are elegant, like a dancer’s, and he’s the same on a football field as he is on a basketball court.

Kagami barely registers what’s happening in the game. The first time someone tackles Kuroko he lets out a shout.

But Kuroko gets back up.

Kagami has no idea who he is anymore.

At the end of the game—45-7, Aomine’s right, it is a slaughter—the players take of their helmets. Everyone can see the light blue hair like a beacon.

Everyone stares at Kagami. Kagami doesn’t say anything. He just gets up and walks away.

He has a million questions running through his mind.        

Weirdly, the one thing he gets stuck on in the fact that Kuroko’s number was 10.

He wants to ask Kuroko if that means something.

He wants to ask Kuroko a lot of things.

He goes home.

*

When he first found out Kuroko had mysteriously transferred out of Seirin, Kagami’s biggest fear was what he would do if he had to play against Kuroko.

Because it never occurred to him that Kuroko _wouldn’t_ still be playing basketball.

It wasn’t going up against Kuroko that frightened him—it was the thought of seeing Kuroko with a new light.

He understood Aomine’s derision when they first me. (He remembers trying to explain this to Alex, when he flew to beg her help for the Winter Cup. “He said my light was too dim!” he wailed.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Alex had replied. “Is that some sort of Japanese insult?”)

Seeing Kuroko with a new light would have been devastating. If the new light had been weaker than Kagami, Kagami would have gone full-on Aomine on his ass. If the new light had been _stronger_ , well, that would have been even worse, right?

So he spent a few sleepless nights feeling jealous of the faceless man playing basketball with Kuroko.

He should be glad, he tells himself. He should be glad Kuroko’s not playing basketball.

“ _Bakagami!_ ” Coach shouts. “That’s the firth basket you’ve _missed_! What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“I don’t want apologies! I want answers!”

Everyone looks at him. It’s just practice, but he’s messing up big time, so he sighs.

“I found Kuroko.”

He wasn’t going to tell them. But he figures they deserve an explanation.

"What?” Riko says. “Where? What school? What is he doing?”

“Deimon. Playing football. American Football,” he remembers to correct.

 _“What?_ ” Hyuuga demands.

“I saw him in a game,” Kagami rushes in with, before they can laugh and tell him how impossible it is. “It’s him.”

“I don’t believe it,” Hyuuga says, shaking his head. “Where’s the next game? We’ll all go next time.”

*

Kagami absolutely does not want to watch another one of Kuroko’s football games.

But the senpais are determined, and Kagami has never been good at telling them “no.”

The shock has abated somewhat, so he can watch the game and appreciate some of the things he missed last time.

Like the fact that Deimon is a fairly small team. Like Seirin, they don’t have many benched players, and the starters play both offense and defense. Even Kuroko.

This more than anything else should be proof it can’t be him—Kuroko doesn’t have the stamina to last playing full time in a _basketball_ game—how could he last the entire time on a football field?

Except he does. He is.

He notices the other players now too. Number 21 is phenomenally fast. The line _is_ small, but powerful. The receivers—

Kagami can’t help but fixate on the receivers. On the people who catch Kuroko’s passes. They’re well coordinated. They move like a team who trusts Kuroko.

It hurts.

At the end of the game, 21-10, another Deimon victory, Hyuuga gets up angrily, startling Kagami out of his thoughts.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“Captain, no—” Kagami starts. He can’t see Kuroko now. He _can’t._ He has no idea what he’d say.

“Do you know what this means?” Hyuuga yells.

He’s pissed. And he’s scary when he’s angry. Kagami doesn’t understand—sure Kuroko left them, but isn’t it better he’s not on someone else’s basketball team? If anyone has the right to be angry it’s Kagami.

He opens his mouth to protest, but Hyuuga cuts in.

“ _Deimon is a Tokyo school.”_

Kagami freezes.

_No._

Surely not.

He hadn’t looked. He didn’t want to.

It can’t be true.

He spent some time thinking about the circumstances that lead to the absurdity of Kuroko playing quarterback. It almost makes sense—Kuroko has to transfer suddenly. Probably his parents moved, or something like that. He ends up in a school that doesn’t have a basketball team. Unable to start one on his own, he joins the American Football team. It’s still _ridiculous._ For one thing, what high school doesn’t have a basketball club? Why would Kuroko even go to one that didn’t?

But it’s the only thing that makes sense.

It all falls apart if Kuroko is still in Tokyo.

Has been in Tokyo _this entire time._

It’s too much.

“That’s—that’s impossible,” Kagami says.

He looks at the others—waits for any of them to correct Hyuuga and say no, really—Deimon is in Akita or Kyoto or anywhere else impossibly far from Seirin.

No one says anything.

“I’m asking him why,” Hyuuga practically snarls. “Anyone else can come with me or not.”

Kagami follows feeling numb.

*

They wait outside the stadium. The players come out last. They’re still in their red uniforms, they’re still cheering. They take turns pouncing on each other and clapping arms around each other and Kagami can’t get over the fact that Kuroko looks _happy._

Because how dare he. How dare he smile after he destroyed Kagami over and over again.

“Kuroko!” Hyuuga shouts.

Kuroko freezes in place. His eyes widen when he sees the Seirin team. When he sees _Kagami._

He looks _wrecked._

That’s what stops Hyuuga from yelling more. That’s what stops Kagami from saying anything at all. Kuroko looks gut-punched. Kagami’s never seen this expression on Kuroko before—it makes the Touou games look like a mild annoyance. Kagami probably would have any number of things to never see the complete devastation on Kuroko’s face right now.

“Seirin—you’re old basketball team?” the monkey-like receiver says.

“What?” Someone on the line says. He has a scar on his cheek, and he stops in front of Kuroko, protectively. “You can’t have him back!”

“Yeah! He’s ours now!”

“Stay away from our quarterback!”

“Fugo! Teammate!”

The entire line steps in front of Kuroko. Protecting him. Because it’s the line’s job to protect the quarterback.

Why, Kuroko? Kagami wants to ask. Why do they need to protect you from _us?_ What did we do that drove you away?

Number 21 suddenly steps forward. He pulls Kuroko with him, he has his hand on Kuroko's wrist. Kagami can’t help but fixate on that,

21 bows in front of Hyuuga, which startles everyone. “I am very sorry for the loss of your teammate! He is our valuable comrade and we need him right now! Thank you!”

And then he takes off running at high speed, dragging Kuroko along with him. They disappear in what seems like a cloud of smoke. The other footballers eye the basketball players like they might start a fight but slink away without confrontation.

Hyuuga stares after them. “We needed him too,” he says, to no one, really.

He kicks at the ground and walks away, looking defeated. One by one, the Seirin team trails after him.

*

Kuroko can’t possibly keep up with Sena, but he lets Sena pull him along anyway. When he finally trips and collapses he stays on the ground and starts sobbing.

Once he starts crying he can’t stop. Everything he’s kept inside, all his misery and treachery and despair finally boils to the surface and he can’t keep it in anymore.

Kuroko has never been much of a crier. Certain losses have been more painful than others, and occasionally tears do come. But he usually keeps it in.

Now, he can’t. Seeing them—seeing _him_ —it’s too much. He breaks and he doesn’t know how to stop once broken.

It was stupid, _stupid,_ to think they wouldn’t find him once he started playing games. Even under the anonymity Hiruma gave him by calling him “Phantom” there’s no way it wouldn’t get back to Seirin. The worlds of basketball and American Football are separate but it’s not like there would never be any overlap. Japan is a small country. Tokyo is even smaller still.

He sobs for what feels like hours. Every time he thinks he’s done crying more tears come. It’s an unbearable sadness that he’s suppressed for so long.

Sena stays with him the whole time. He just sits next to Kuroko, not saying anything, like he’s standing guard. Eventually, Monta comes too. He and Sena exchange some sort of glance but they don’t speak. They just sit quietly next to Kuroko.

Finally, he stops. Largely because he doesn’t think he has any tears left. Crying is supposed to be cathartic, but Kuroko just feels hollow inside. Used up.

Monta hands him a handkerchief which Kuroko accepts.

“I did betray them,” he says after awhile. “They had a right to be angry.”

He wishes the line hadn’t stepped in front of him like that. They couldn’t help themselves—they saw a threat to their quarterback. At the same time, he’s glad. And he’s grateful Sena took him away. He thinks it would have been better if the Seirin team hit him—beat him up. But they would have never done that. They’d only want an explanation, and Kuroko can’t give them that.

Monta and Sena don’t say anything.

“I might betray you too,” Kuroko presses. Because he could. He might have to leave them at any moment. He should have known better than to get involved in their dreams. “I am not a reliable person. I might leave you before the Christmas Bowl. You should have never trusted me to be your quarterback.”

Sena and Monta still don’t say anything.

“I think,” Monta says finally, “I think we should be drunk.”

Kuroko does not know what to say to this.

“Eeeh,” Sena says, “I’d rather not. The last time I got drunk I ended up in a lion’s den.”

Kuroko pauses. “…Metaphorically speaking, you mean?”

“No, an actual lion’s den,” Sena says thoughtfully. “I’m still not sure how we got into the zoo after hours.”

“Well, Tetsu should be drunk,” Monta says. “And you never let a man drink by himself. Com on, Sena.”

“OK, OK, fine. But don’t let me run away this time.”

“We are underage,” Kuroko points out.

“Not a problem,” Monta says cheerfully. “Kurita-san lives at a temple.”

Kuroko is not exactly sure how those two things go together.

But he’s never been drunk before and this honestly sounds like a really good plan right now.

*

Kuroko wakes up sandwiched between Sena and Monta. Kurita’s father is yelling at his son for once again perpetuating the delinquency of minors. Kuroko has a headache that perfectly correlates with his misery.

He gets up and walks outside. Hiruma is sitting on a bench, polishing his gun.

“So you saw your old team, eh?” Hiruma says casually. “Are you going to quit?”

“No,” Kuroko says, sitting down next to Hiruma. “Not yet. It is always a possibility. You should start looking for a new quarterback.”

Hiruma snorts. “You know, fucking phantom, life would be a lot easier if you didn’t try and do everything by yourself.”

Kuroko supposes this is true. But he thinks it’s an odd thing for Hiruma to say.

“Don’t worry about us needing a different quarterback. The only thing I want to know is if _you_ want to quit.”

Kuroko wants to play basketball. So obviously what he wants is not important.

“No, I do not want to quit.”

This is true too.

He doesn’t understand their kindness. Monta and Sena poured him drink after drink and they talked about getting drunk with an American team and they laughed and they never once asked Kuroko any questions.

Why? Is it just because they don’t want to risk losing their quarterback? Why do they accept him after what he’s done—what he _told_ them he still might do?

But they were kind, and they _have_ accepted him, and if at all possible, he would like to help their dreams come true.

“Then that’s all I care about,” Hiruma says enigmatically.

Kuroko rubs his head. The problem with dealing with Hiruma was that he gave the impression he knew everything. It was like dealing with a slightly more evil but probably less crazy version of Akashi.

“Wake the fucking shrimp and the fucking monkey up,” Hiruma commands. “Kids these days, getting drunk before school. Just be glad you didn’t wake up in a zoo this time.”       

*

They face strong opponents and they win. They keep winning.

Oujou loses to the Hakushu Dinosaurs, so they won’t be able to have their rematch. Kuroko didn’t watch their game because of other priorities, but he hadn’t expected Oujou to lose.

When he enters the club room everyone is staring at him. It’s unnerving. His lack of presence doesn’t work as well on the Devilbats because of how he plays on the field, but it is still unusual to have all eyes on him.

“Soo…” Sena begins. Then stops. Then plunges on. “So Semi-Finals.”

“Yes,” Kuroko says. “We have our Semi-Finals match coming up.”

“Right. Right,” Sena says. He doesn’t say anything else.

“Oujou lost,” Monta helps out. “So uh. So we’re playing against the Dinosaurs.”

“Yes,” Kuroko says. “I am sorry we will not get our revenge against Oujou.”

“Yeah…” Juumonji says. “That, uh, is unfortunate.”

Kuroko is getting a little tired of the way everyone is staring at him.

“So… do you _know_ what happened in our last game against the Dinosaurs?” Sena finally asks. Everyone sucks in their breath as they look at Kuroko.

“You played them in the Finals last year, correct?” Kuroko says, thinking back to the night he watched all their old games. He tries to think about what was relevant….oh, right. “Hiruma-san was injured.”

It was the only time the Devilbats played without Hiruma all season. The first time Sena ever had to be a quarterback. Hiruma came back to the field, though. And he played in the Christmas Bowl. So his injury couldn’t have been too bad….

“Hurt, um, yes. Well, you see, Hiruma-san actually broke his arm,” Sena says, sounding nervous.

“And he still played?” Kuroko says, impressed.

“Ye-es,” Sena has the expression of a man waiting for an explosion.

Kuroko is beginning to have a very bad feeling.

“Hiruma-san breaking his arm was an accident, correct? It’s unlikely to happen again?”

He waits for them to reassure him. Surely, _this_ is what they are worried about—they think Kuroko might not want to play because of a mishap last year.

“You… really didn’t watch any other games but Deimon’s, did you?” Juumonji says.

“Why?” Kuroko asks suspiciously.

Sena sighs. He as his “Captain” face on—the one he has whenever he has to make a tough decision. “Gaou-kun breaks the arm of every quarterback he plays against.”

Kuroko stares. And stares. And continues to stare.

“…Every…?”

“Every,” Sena confirms.

“In all the games, the only Quarterback who ever remained intact was Harao from the Taiyo Sphinx, last tournament,” Monta explains.

Kuroko perks up. They played the Sphinx this year. “Because their line is so strong?”

“Because he forfeited,” Sena says, apologetically.

“Gaou completely decimated their line,” Togano says, not helping. “Harao didn’t have a choice but to forfeit.”

“I’ll protect you, Kuroko-senpai!” Chuubou says. “I’ve stopped Gaou-senpai before!”

Kuroko looks at the small First-Year and despairs. Chuubou’s “Delta Dynamite” _is_ very effective. But if he so much as messes up the timing once he’s taken down.

“What exactly are my chances of escaping this with both my arms?” Kuroko asks.

“.003 %,” Hiruma says from the doorway. Kuroko hadn’t known he was in the room.

Kuroko looks at Hiruma.

Even Hiruma, the most cunning quarterback in Japan, had been broken.

And last year they’d had Kurita.

“I see,” Kuroko says.

“We _will_ protect you, Kuroko,” Juumonji says quietly. “That’s why the line exists. But you’re our control tower, and we need to know that when it counts, you’re a Devilbat.”

“Juumonji-kun!” Sena admonishes.

“There are no quitters in Deimon,” Kuroko says, staring at Juumonji. “Ya-Ha,” he adds quietly. Because he gets it. There’s no shame in having a broken line, but a quarterback who forfeits is unacceptable. Kuroko knew that going in.

“Good,” Juumonji says. He claps Kuroko on the back. “Then you better come up with a plan!”

Kuroko meets Hiruma’s gaze.

“I’ll think of something by game day,” he says.

*

It’s raining, and Kagami is at home, feeling sorry for himself.

The loss to Shutoku had been _hard_ , for many reasons. Because it was the last tournament for the senpai. Because it had been against Midorima and Takao, another light and shadow. Because playing against the Generation of Miracles without Kuroko wasn’t fun.

He’s irritated. Mad at himself, mad at Kuroko, mad at himself for being mad at Kuroko. He misses the days when basketball was just basketball.

His doorbell rings, and Kagami is even more annoyed at the intrusion. He doesn’t want to deal with people right now. He wonders if he can just ignore it when the doorbell rings again.

Grunting, he heaves himself off the bed and opens the door. “What do you—”

He stops.

A rain-drenched Kuroko is at his door.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Kuroko says, bowing in that formal way of his. “May I come inside?”

*

There are a million things Kagami wants to say. Instead, he lets Kuroko in and flings a towel at his head. “Did you forget an umbrella?”

“Yes. The rain caught me unaware,” says Kuroko, drying his hair.

Kagami swallows. He turns his back on Kuroko and starts preparing tea. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Kuroko says.

“You should change,” Kagami says, not looking at Kuroko. “It’s not good to stay in wet clothes.”

“I do not intend to stay long,” Kuroko says.

Kagami pours the tea and resists the urge to slam his hands on the table. “Why are you here?” He fails to keep the growl out of his voice.

Kuroko looks at his tea. His hand still, and the towel hangs over his head. Kagami gets the distinct impression that if Kuroko could hide behind the towel, he would.

“I am not sure,” he says quietly.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Kagami says. And his anger is welling up—all his feelings of abandonment and betrayal warring to the surface. “We lost to Shutoku.”

“Yes,” Kuroko says. “I heard.”

Kagami grips his fists tightly.

Kuroko lifts his head and meets Kagami’s gaze. “Would it have made a difference? If I had been there?”

And Kagami wants to hit him. He really does. For a split second, he’s terrified by his own rage.

And then he starts to laugh.

*

Months ago, when Kuroko first disappeared, Kagami and Midorima had a quiet, after practice game conversation. Midorima is weirdly the only Miracle Kagami ever talks to in a serious manner. Perhaps because Midorima gave him advice before. Probably because Kise doesn’t like having serious conversations, and Kagami’s interactions with Aomine are too wrapped up in competition to discuss things like civilized people. (Murasakibara and Akashi were never contenders. For obvious reasons.)

Midorima explained in a quiet way about meeting with Akashi one last time before they all graduated from Teiko. “Kuroko wasn’t there,” Midorima had said, “So maybe he never knew. We all decided to attend separate schools to see which one of us would come out on top. Even at the time, Akashi assured us Kuroko would join our ‘battle.’

“This was before you came along, of course. The miracle who wasn’t a Miracle. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. If you had been at Teiko with us, you would have been the same. And if this Winter Cup proved anything, it’s that the Miracles are all about equal in strength.

“It’s Kuroko who makes the difference, perhaps. Whichever Miracle has Kuroko on their team is the one who comes out on top. It does make you wonder, when all is said and done, if Kuroko wasn’t the strongest of us after all.”

At the time, Kagami resented the implication that he would have been the same as those assholes during the Teiko years. And he resented the idea that his and Kuroko’s play was not unique—that he could be replaced with any Miracle as Kuroko’s “light” and the results would be the same.

But he did think perhaps there was some truth to the idea that whatever team Kuroko was on would be the one to come out on top.

*

Kagami laughs so hard and for so long Kuroko starts to look concerned.

When he’s done laughing, his rage is gone, replaced by an empty sadness and a longing for gone things.

When he finally looks at Kuroko again he says grimly, “I haven’t been able to enter the Zone since you left.”

Kuroko’s eyes widen.

Kagami doesn’t want to hurt Kuroko anymore, not even with words. But it’s the truth, and he thinks Kuroko should know. “Aomine once told me that my trigger for entering the Zone was my desire to help my teammates. But he was wrong. It was you. My trigger was always you.”

Kuroko remains silent—long enough for Kagami to feel embarrassed. And then Kuroko launches himself at Kagami and they’re kissing.

Kagami almost wants to protest. _You left me for months, you bastard,_ he wants to say. _You didn’t tell me where you were going, you broke up with me without even telling me. You can’t just come back and kiss me like nothing’s wrong._

He should say all of those things. But he has a lap full of Kuroko and months of pent up frustration and celibacy and he’s never been very good and resisting temptation. He kisses Kuroko with all the built-up hunger from these past months—he’s desperate and aching and half-starved for Kuroko and he never wants to let go.

*

It’s still raining. Kagami can hear it against the window. Kuroko is holding on to him like a drowning man clinging to his last lifeline and Kagami can’t bring himself to ruin the mood.

He’s not angry anymore. Kuroko holds him tightly, like he’s afraid if he lets go the world will fall apart, and Kagami thinks that during the long disappearance he forgot something about Kuroko.

Kuroko might be expressionless 99% of the time, but he’s not _unfeeling._ In fact, he probably feels more deeply than anyone else Kagami knows.

And when he’s hurt he keeps it all inside. He was never the kind of person to let others see his pain.

It’s frustrating—I’m your boyfriend, Kagami wants to say, I’m your light. We’re partners. You don’t need to keep things from me—but Kagami understands.

Kagami hurts. But Kuroko is hurting too.

“You could tell me,” he says, holding Kuroko tighter, so the smaller boy can’t escape. “Whatever it is, I promise I’d listen to your explanation all the way.”

“I know you would,” Kuroko says, muffled into Kagami’s chest. “Kagami-kun is very kind.”

“Kuroko—”

“Kagami-kun is kind, but I am not. I am very sorry. I should not have come here.” Kuroko pulls away. Kagami lets him.

Kuroko gets up and picks his clothes up from off the floor.

 _I’m losing him again,_ Kagami thinks.

“Why _did_ you come?” Kagami asks.

Kuroko stills. “I had a favor to ask Kagami-kun. But it is no longer appropriate to ask you for favors. I sincerely apologize.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Kagami says. “Just ask. If I don’t want to do it I won’t.”

Kuroko hesitates. He pulls his shirt back on to buy time.

“I am playing in the Semi-Finals this Saturday,” Kuroko says. “I would like it if Kagami-kun came to watch.”

He doesn’t expect this. He feels irritated again—Seirin _lost_ , but Kuroko’s football team keeps winning. And Kuroko wants what? For Kagami to cheer him on?

"Why?”

“It would give me strength to know Kagami-kun was watching,” Kuroko says, his eyes locked on Kagami. “And anyone else too, if our senpai would like to come.” Kuroko swallows. “Also, I might lose this game. There is a very good chance of that. Perhaps—perhaps I believe you and our senpai deserve to watch me lose.”

Kagami snorts. “I’ll think about it.”

Kuroko bows his head. “Thank you very much.” He moves towards the door and stops. He turns back to Kagami.

“Kagami-kun is correct. You deserve an explanation. I was being selfish.”

“Are you going to give me one?” Kagami asks.

“After,” Kuroko says. “After the Devilbats either lose or win the Christmas Bowl. I will explain everything to you then.”

Kagami sighs. “Alright. I’ll be waiting. Good luck on your game.”

Kuroko bows his head again and leaves.

*

Kurita is helping Deimon’s line prepare for Gaou by charging at them. Kuroko prepares for Gaou by standing behind the line as Kurita charges.

“It’s no good,” Hiruma cackles. “Gaou is much faster than the fucking fatty. You better have a plan, fucking phantom. Or you can say good-bye to your right arm.”

Kuroko keeps his face calm. Hiruma has been needling him all week. It’s his way of preparing Kuroko for the worst. Kuroko knows this is Hiruma trying to be helpful. He does.

But it is still super annoying.

Chuubou misses the timing on his Delta Dynamite and Kurita pushes past the line. In an awkward stumbling of limbs, Kuroko tries to duck as Kurita attempts to stop before hitting the much smaller man. They both fail and Kuroko goes down with an “oomph.” Kurita manages to soften the impact somewhat, so Kuroko escapes with only the wind knocked out of him.

“Tch. You’re going to have to do better than that,” Hiruma says.

Kurita helps him up. He apologizes at Kuroko and then starts to wail. “I don’t want Gaou-kun to break Kuroko-kun! Hirumaaaaa. Can’t I sneak on the team for this game?”

Hiruma viciously kicks Kurita. “Fucking fatty, if that was an option I would have done that months ago! If you don’t want the fucking monster to break our team, tell him not to!”

 “I did!” Kurita wails. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes. “But he wouldn’t be Gaou-kun if he held back. I’m sorry I can’t help you, Kuroko-kun.”

“Don’t look down on Deimon’s current line!” Juumonji yells.

“Yeah! We’ll do just fine without you!” Togano says.

“Better than fine!” Kuroki yells.

“Hugo!” Komusami grunts. “Master’s Apprentice!”

Kuroko brushes the dirt off of him. “One more time.”

*

After practice, Hiruma waits for him.

Kuroko figures he knows what the former quarterback wants to talk to him about. That’s fine. There are things Kuroko wants to say as well.

“I am not going to run away,” Kuroko says before Hiruma can say anything.

“I never figured you would,” Hiruma says. He blows a bubble with his gum. “I think you’ve been waiting for a game like this one.”

Kuroko blinks.

Neither of them says anything for a long time.

“I do not wish for Gaou-kun to break me,” Kuroko says finally.

“No?” Hiruma taunts.

Kuroko takes in a deep breath. “No.”

Maybe Kagami will come watch the game. Maybe Seirin will too. They deserve to see him broken, Kuroko thinks. But they would not wish for it.

“Hiruma-san, I have a request,” Kuroko says.

Hiruma raises a brow.

“Please watch from the stands tomorrow,” Kuroko says politely.

Hiruma, up till now, watched from the bench like the manager and trainer. He still made the majority of the game play decisions, still barked out orders like he was the captain.

“I am Deimon’s control tower,” Kuroko says firmly. “If I am going to win this game tomorrow, I have to _be_ the control tower.”

Hiruma cackles and thumps Kuroko on the back. “That’s the spirit. If you forfeit this game for us I will fucking kill you, understand?”

“Understood.”

*

Kagami invites the rest of Seirin to watch Kuroko’s game. Hyuuga sputters and yells how Kuroko has a lot of nerve, asking them to come, but in the end, all of Seirin’s Third Years show up to the football stadium. The other Second Years do too.

Kagami invites Midorima and Aomine and Kise too. Takao and Momoi come along with them.

“Are the Semi-Finals an important game for American Football?” Kise asks. “Why did Kurokocchi want us to watch?”

Kagami shrugs. He’s watching Aomine, who is watching the field with a terrifyingly intent expression.

“Deimon’s playing the Hakushu Dinosaurs, aren’t they?” Aomine asks.

“Yeah, why?” Kagami asks suspiciously.

Aomine shrugs but doesn’t say anything.

They all end up sitting behind a bunch of other football teams, and Kagami finds himself eavesdropping on their conversation because they’re talking about Kuroko.

“How long do you think Phantom’s going to last?” someone asks.

“Third Quarter,” someone else says. “I give him until Third Quarter.”

“What? Not even Hiruma lasted until the Second Quarter! Phantom will break in First, I bet money on that.”

“I’ll take that action.”

Kuroko thinks they’re underestimating Kuroko and it irritates him. He’s watched two of Kuroko’s games now and he’s lasted for all Four Quarters.

“Oh? Teikoku’s here!” the former idol says. “Taka-san! Koizumi-san! Why are you watching the Semi-Finals? I didn’t think you’d come until the Finals.”

Kagami disinterestedly looks at the two newcomers, a long haired boy and a very pretty girl approach the other football players.

“My little sister’s on Deimon’s team," the girl says, “Number 81.”

“Kanae-chan, right? Monta says she’s a great receiver,” Sakuraba says. “Why didn’t she go to Teikoku?”

“I think she didn’t want to be on the same team as me,” Koizumi says.

There’s a girl on Deimon’s team? _This_ girl plays on a football team? Kagami marvels. Is that even allowed?

“So you came because you’re worried?” Sakuraba gave a sly glance at the long haired boy. “And I suppose Taka came because he’s worried about Monta?”

“Of course not,” Taka bites out. “I only wanted to watch Monta and Kisaragi face off against each other in a receiver’s battle.”

“You never came to watch Monta and me face off,” Sakuraba points out.

“Because it was obvious who would win,” Taka says angrily.

“Right. Well, neither of you have to worry much. Gaou doesn’t break receivers. The only one who’s going to be injured is the quarterback.”

“ _What did you say?_ ” Kagami snarls. The football players look up in alarm. “ _What_ about the quarterback?”

Sakuraba gapes at Kagami, trying to figure out where they’ve met before.

Aomine sighs. “Gaou Rikiya breaks the arm of every quarterback he plays against.”

“ _What?_ ” Kagami exclaims, turning his attention to Aomine.

“But _Tetsu-kun’s_ the quarterback!” Momoi exclaims.

“And he’s probably going to get his arm broken,” Aomine says.

“Impossible—if you all know he does this, why hasn’t he been stopped by now?” Kagami asks the football players.

“It’s _American Football,_ ” a short white-haired kid says. “That’s how the game is _played.”_

 “How barbaric,” Midorima says, appalled, “What a terrible sport.”

“It’s a game for the strong,” the white-haired kid says coldly.

“Deimon won against the Dinosaurs last year, didn’t they?” Riko asks.

“Yeah, but Hiruma still got his arm broken,” Sakuraba says. “He came back to play despite the injury and Deimon pulled through. He managed to recover in time for the Christmas Bowl.”

“There isn’t as much time for recovery between the Semi-Finals and the Finals,” Shin says. “If they lose their Quarterback, Deimon’s season is over, even if they manage to win this game.”

“And I don’t think Phantom-kun could keep playing like Hiruma did,” someone else says. “Hiruma is the devil. I don’t think broken arms stop him like they would a normal human.”

“Yeah,” someone else agrees. “When Phantom gets his arm broken, Deimon’s done. Sena’s not a good enough replacement quarterback to win against the Dinosaurs.”

“Don’t fuck around!” Hyuuga yells, startling everyone. “You’re telling me someone is _purposefully_ injuring players and it’s _fine_? You’re telling me he’s going to break Kuroko and that’s _OK_? He’ll recover eventually? Do you guys not have any sense for how serious it is to injure a player? How much suffering that causes?”

“Junpei…” Riko says.

Hyuuga gets up. “What is Kuroko thinking? This is bullshit!”

Kagami knows how Hyuuga feels. The Seirin Third Years all know what it means to have an injured teammate, and a silence falls on the basketball team as they consider what this means _for Kuroko._

 _Kuroko, what the hell?_ Kagami thinks. _Is this why you wanted us here? Did you want us to watch you break?_

Kagami has never been so furious.

*

The game is tense—even the watchers are tense. After the basketball players and the American Football players argued it seemed like there was nothing left to do but watch and see if Kuroko breaks.

Gaou Rikiya is a _monster._ He’s _huge._ Even from the stands, Kagami can see that. Maybe as tall as Murasakibara, but almost twice as wide.

This is the man who is going to break Kuroko, Kagami thinks. I’m going to have to watch him break Kuroko.

This, Kagami thinks, is probably the cruelest thing Kuroko has ever done to me.

Deimon takes offense first. Gaou chargers in and Kagami sucks in his breath. The monster stops inches away from Kuroko.

Number 80 has the ball.

“He has a quick draw, like you Kid,” the white-haired boy says.

“Hm. I noticed that, when we played them in the Spring. He had the potential for it,” Kid says. “When he’s not doing that misdirection pass, he’s very fast.”

“It won’t work forever,” Riku says. “Gaou got _you_ in the end.”

“It takes an incredibly amount of concentration. If he slips up even once he’s done,” Kid says.

“That Gaou guy broke your arm?” Kagami asks the cowboy hat guy.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Kid says mildly.

Kagami returns watching the game.

He gathers, listening to the football players talk, that Gaou obeys the rules. In _that_ respect, he’s not like Hanamiya Makoto. He doesn’t crush an opponent if they’ve already completed the pass.

Every time Kuroko has the ball is sheer agony.

“He’s alternating when the line stops Gaou and when they let him through on purpose,” Midorima observes. For a man who knows nothing about American Football, he’s caught on fast. “But he’s not doing it in a pattern. This must be something he’s planned with the line."

“He’s putting a tremendous amount of pressure on that field,” Aomine says.

“Kuroko always had the best concentration,” Izuki notes. “The quick draw pass is a risky move, but he won’t slip.”

“For the whole game?” Riku challenges.

No one on Seirin has a response to that. It’s still weird to see Kuroko’s stamina last this long.

They make it to halftime without incident. Kagami lets out a shaky sigh.

“Ugh, this is terrible for my nerves!” Kise whines.

“Idiot! Think about what Tetsu must feel!” Aomine shouts, while hitting Kise over the head.

“This sport is awful. I’m so glad I never played,” Kise says.

Kagami doesn’t agree. He wants to be on that field, protecting Kuroko, receiving his passes. He wants to play whatever sport Kuroko plays.                

*

The football players are impressed. They’ve never seen someone last this long against Gaou before.

Kuroko returns to the field all too soon. Kagami’s heart races—he cannot stand the thought of Kuroko in danger.

Kuroko still relies on a quick draw pass. Deimon is winning by a single touchdown and it’s still anyone’s game.

Kuroko has the ball and Gaou moves forward. Kagami has just enough time to think, _Shit, he’s not going to make it._ He yells, “KUROKO!” almost instinctively and then—

“What the hell was that?” Riku asks.

“He dodged!” Sakuraba cheers. “My God, he _dodged_!” He’s shaking Takami next to him. “Did you _see_ that?”

“Hmm,” Kid says. “He spent the entire first half doing nothing but quick draw passes to hide the fact that he could dodge all along. That takes guts. He’s a worthy successor for you, Hiruma.”

Kagami doesn’t notice when the lanky man joins them. The blonde laughs, sounding vaguely reminiscent of the super villains in Saturday cartoons.

“Of course he is. I fucking trained him, didn’t I?”

Kagami looks at the man—really _looks_ at him. He looks, Kagami thinks, a bit like a demon. This man knows Kuroko. Trained him.

“Why aren’t you supervising from the field?” Takami asks.

“The fucking phantom kicked me of. I’ve never been so proud. He’s Deimon’s control tower now.” He meets Kagami’s eyes, flicks his gaze over Seirin.

Kagami turns away and looks at Kuroko.

He should have remembered the Kirisaki Daiichi game better. Kuroko had been the only starter to escape without a single bruise. It wasn’t just misdirection—when Hanamiya Makoto brought the basketball down he’d intended to crush Kuroko—everyone on the court could see that.

Kuroko had fast reflexes. It was easy to forget that when considering how slow he was at everything else.

It was so easy to forget that Kuroko was a seasoned athlete—playing since he was ten years old, winning games since he was thirteen.

 _You never cease to amaze me,_ Kagami thinks. He should tell Kuroko that. Next time he sees him, he will.

*

Deimon wins by three points—a field goal, by Sawamura.

Kuroko collapses immediately after. Both Monta and Sena have to hoist him off the ground and hold him up.

He’s barely conscious when Gaou comes to shake his hand.

“You’re a tricky man,” Gaou says. “And I normally don’t respect that. But I’ve never had a quarterback win a battle with me before. You’ve got balls.”

“Thank you,” Kuroko says, since it seems like a compliment. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

Gaou laughs and claps his hand on Kuroko’s shoulder. Kuroko is too numb to felt the pain.

After the line-up, Kuroko passes out.       

*    

Their opponents for the Finals are the Shinryuugi Nagas. Kuroko knows the Deimon second years are nervous about this game. Apparently they are terrified of one of the players.

“Ikkyu said that Agon’s been training non-stop,” Monta says. “We barely beat him when he _didn’t_ train.”

“Is he really so frightening?” Kuroko asks. “We have played against many strong opponents.”

“Well, he’s a one-in-a-century genius,” Sena says at the same time Monta says, “Well, he’s evil.”

The two look at each other and agree, “He’s an evil genius.”

Kuroko isn’t impressed.

*

He meets Kongo Agon. He still isn’t impressed. He is, however, pissed.

“You trashes have had a good run,” Agon continues, “But you don’t have a chance at beating us this year.”

Agon has, in the space of ten minutes, hit on a woman, thrown her to the ground, and threatened Sena for intervening. After helping the woman up (and escape) Kuroko stands next to Sena.

He can _see_ Agon is a genius. He has the kind of body and aura Kuroko has only ever seen in the Generation of Miracles.

“You are wrong,” Kuroko says quietly and fiercely.

“Eh?” Agon’s attention switches from Sena to Kuroko. His eyes flick over Kuroko and it’s clear he dismisses him instantly. “Hiruma’s replacement. I’ve seen you play. You’re nothing but trash.”

“And you are a prodigy,” Kuroko says. “But by no means, ‘one-of-a-kind.’”

“What?” Agon steps forward and _looms._

Kuroko glares up at him. “I can name six other athletes in Japanese high schools alone who are just as strong as you. And I spent the better part of last year defeating them. You could say taking on geniuses is a specialty of mine.”

Agon moves to hit Kuroko and Sena pulls him out of reach just in time.

“See you at the Finals, Agon-san!” Sena calls as he runs, pulling Kuroko along with him.

“Wow, Tetsuya-kun,” Sena says when they’re safe again. “You’ve gotten so brazen lately.”

Kuroko shrugs. “It is this sport, I think. It’s done strange things to me.”

“Guuh. Agon-san is going to be so mad,” Sena says.

“But we are still going to win, yes?” Kuroko says.

Sena’s frightened expression is immediately replaced with grim determination. “Absolutely.”

*

The Hakushu game has done something to Kuroko. It was the first game he played as Deimon’s true control tower, and if they’re going to win against the Nagas, Kuroko wants to win _his_ way.

Deimon has put an extraordinary amount of trust in him, despite the fact that he has repeatedly told them he doesn’t deserve it.

Now Kuroko wants to return the favor. If they’re going to beat Agon, Kuroko wants them to know they have _his_ trust.

He meets Sena and Monta for lunch. Not Maji Burger, but a different place the American Football players enjoy that has (inferior) vanilla milkshakes.

Kuroko wants to give them something. A sign of his trust. He can’t tell them his whole story yet—Kagami deserves to be the one to hear it first, Kuroko owes him that much—but he can give them one of his secrets nonetheless. So during lunch he tells them something he’s never told anyone before:

“I am gay.”

Of course, other people _knew._ But Kuroko had never _told_ anyone. The Seirin team found out one day when they walked in on him and Kagami after practice. It had been embarrassing, but not life-ending. The team had been surprised, but as it turns out, not all that surprised.

The worst reaction they’d had to bear was Izuki’s, who had proceeded to _torment_ them with a barrage of couples-related puns as if he’d been stockpiling them for the day in which two teammates started dating one another. (Kuroko was pretty sure he _had._ He’d seen Izuki’s pun notebook. Some of those puns dated before he’d even _met_ Kuroko or Kagami.) Hyuuga eventually threatened to bench Izuki for all foreseeable games until the puns stopped, and thus ended their torture.

Kuroko prides himself on being a good judge of character. He knows there’s always the risk of homophobia—especially in a high school boy’s sports team. He knows he’s risking a lot before an important game—this could always backfire horribly and disrupt the team. But he trusts Monta and Sena and he’s pretty sure they will not react with prejudice.

Kuroko _does_ pride himself on his observation skills and his judge of character. That’s why it’s such a huge blow for him personally when Sena and Monta react in a way that he’d have never predicted in a million years.

Which was to nonchalantly continue eating their burgers. Sena offhandedly says, “Oh yeah? That’s cool. So are most of the Devilbats.”

Kuroko feels like he can’t have heard that right. “What?”

Or maybe _they_ had misunderstood _him_. That is possible…

“Sena, that’s wrong,” Monta corrects to Kuroko’s relief. But then he continues on with, “It’s only _most_ if you count the Third-Years.”       

“They’re still Devilbats!” Sena insists.

“True. But we don’t know about the first-years yet, so I don’t think _most_ is right. Also, _gay_ is a bit misleading. Hmm. More like, most of the Devilbats have at least one boyfriend?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s probably closer to the truth. Except it doesn’t take Yukimitsu-san or Taka-san into account.”

“OK, fine. Most of the Devilbats are gay or have at least one boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Sena nods.

“Excuse me,” Kuroko says desperately. “ _What?”_

Sena and Monta look at Kuroko in surprise, like they’d forgotten he was there. “What?” Sena asks.

“The team—” Kuroko flounders. “Who—” he has no idea how to even begin. “I didn’t know anyone on the team was even dating anyone.” There. That seemed a safe place to start.

“Really? I guess that’s not surprising,” Sena says.

“No one acts like a couple,” Kuroko continues.

“No one’s dating someone else on the _team_ ,” Sena says, sounding scandalized at the thought. “Everyone’s boyfriend goes to a different school. That’s probably why you didn’t know. Well. Except Hiruma-san and Musashi-san.”

“ _What?_ ” Kuroko says. He thinks, perhaps, the two are playing a cruel joke on him. It would be unlike them, and they seen so earnest, but surely that makes the most sense. “I thought Hiruma-san was dating Anezaki-san.” He was _sure_ of it.

Monta and Sena have matching expressions on their faces that are a mixture of embarrassment and horror. Monta buries his face in his hands and Sena stammers out, “Yes, er, well, that’s true too.”

“Mamori-nee-san,” Monta wails.

“He’s dating _both_ of them?” Kuroko asks, for clarification.

“Yes, that much we know for certain. Hiruma-san is definitely dating both of them. We’re still a little unclear as to whether or not they’re all dating each other, if Musashi-san and Mamori-nee-san independently agreed to share Hiruma-san, or if Hiruma-san is just greedy,” Sena explains. “I tried asking Mamori-nee-san once but she told me such things were not meant for my sensitive ears and I couldn’t summon up the courage to ask again. Musashi-san is extremely close-lipped and no one else dared ask Hiruma-san.”

“The club has a reward pot for anyone who _does_ ask, though,” Monta offers.

Kuroko’s mind whirls. Sena and Monta are not skilled liars. It’s hard enough trying to get them to bluff out an opposing team. There’s no way they could coordinate a story like this on a whim.

“Yukimitsu-san and Taki-san both came out, but neither of them have boyfriends,” Sena continues, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s just blown Kuroko’s mind. “Which makes four for four on the Third-Years.”

“Even Kurita-san?” Kuroko croaks.

The matched expressions of horror and embarrassment return.

“Uhh. Yeah,” Sena says, looking mortified, “Kurita-san is dating Gaou-kun. And. Um. Kisaragi-kun.”

“ _Gaou Rikiya?”_ Kuroko exclaims. “Kurita-san is dating Gaou Rikiya? The man who spent the better part of the last game trying to break my arm?”

“He’s nice when we’re on the same team,” Sena says loyally. “Or when we’re not playing against each other. He rarely ever tries to break someone’s arm when we’re not playing American Football.”

“Wait,” Kuroko says, feeling a headache coming on, “Did you say _and Kisaragi-kun?_ ”

“Yeeeaah,” Sena says.

Kuroko gapes.

“Guh, I know way too much about how that happened Max,” Monta says. “Kisaragi will not shut up about his love life when he comes to our receiver lunches. Gaou liked Kurita, Kisaragi liked Gaou _and_ Kurita, the two of them came to some sort of arrangement, and Kurita apparently has a hard time saying ‘no.’ So he gets two boyfriends and I get to know _way more than I ever needed to Max_ about what they do in the off-season.”

Kuroko cannot stop picturing this. He has questions. He will never, ever, ask them.

“I’m surprised he’s so open about discussing it in public,” Sena says.

Monta shrugs. “Well, it’s just the receivers. We all have boyfriends, so I guess it’s not like we have much room to judge. Except Ikkyu, who is ironically straight and single. But he goes to an all boys’ school, so he’s used to hearing about it.”

“ _All_ the receivers?” Kuroko says. He knows about the Kantou receiver lunches Monta attends. “Sakuraba-san and Tetsuma-san too?”

“Dating their quarterbacks. Well, Sakuraba’s dating his _former_ quarterback, since Takami graduated. And Testuma’s married now, so ‘dating’ is the wrong word.”

“What?” Sena exclaims. “Since when?”

“Since last summer, when Seibu trained in America. It’s legal there, so they went ahead and did it.”

“How nice,” Sena says longingly.

“Well, they’ve been living together since forever,” Monta says. “So it’s no surprise. They were practically married already. Kid even legally changed his name and everything. He’s Tetsuma Shien now. Not that it matters, since everyone still calls him Kid.”

“I should send them a present,” Sena says, still sounding wistful.

“That is an improbably high number of gay people in one sport,” Kuroko says, trying to regain his composure.

“I know, right?” Monta says. “It’s getting bad. I’m starting to assume when we see two players together that they must be dating.”

“I know,” Sena says, rolling his eyes, “Kotaru-san and Akaba-san still haven’t forgiven you for _that_ misunderstanding.”

“Look, if he’s going to go around talking about what beautiful harmony they make together, I think I can be forgiven for assuming they’re a couple!” Monta says hotly.

Kuroko still feels dizzy.

“Why are you bringing it up now, anyway?” Sena asks him curiously. “I mean, you knew about _me._ ”

“Excuse me,” Kuroko says politely. “I did not.”

“What?” Sena exclaims. “But I talk about my boyfriend all the time! You’ve seen us go on dates!”

“Sena, I keep telling you, those aren’t dates, those are training sessions,” Monta says.

“They are too dates!” Sena says, offended. “Sometimes he k-kisses me afterwards!”

“On the cheek,” Monta says. “You’ve been dating for a year and you still haven’t made it to First Base yet.”

“That’s normal! Isn’t that normal, Tetsuya-kun?”

“ _Shin Seijuro?_ ” Kuroko exclaims, fixating on the relevant data. “You’re dating Shin Seijuro?”

“Yes!” Sena exclaims. “You really didn’t know?”

Kuroko gapes again. “And who is Monta-kun dating? Kongo Agon?”

“Absolutely not MAX!” Monta says, horrified. “We haven’t played against my boyfriend yet. We won’t, unless we make it to the Christmas Bowl. He’s the receiver for Teikoku—Honjou Taka. You’ll like him, Tetsu, you both read a lot.”

“Isn’t it difficult playing against your boyfriend?” Kuroko asks, honestly curious. “Won’t you have difficulty winning against him?”

“Not at all,” Monta makes a face. “I am like, 90% certain the only reason Taka likes me is because I beat him in our last Christmas Bowl. I’m going to be playing against him with all I’ve got. I’m half-convinced he’ll break up with me if Deimon loses.”

“Ugh. I wish I could tell you he’d never do that, but I sorta know how you feel,” Sena says, looking depressed. “I sometimes think Shin-san wouldn’t be dating me at all if I wasn’t playing American Football.”

“Considering your dates are always training sessions, you might be right,” Monta says gloomily. “Ah well, we just have to win the Christmas Bowl, right?”

 “Right,” Sena says.

Kuroko starts to laugh. First it’s a chuckle, and then once he starts he can’t stop and it turns into a hysterical roar. Sena and Monta look alarmed.

It really had been the perfect revenge, Kuroko thinks, as he laughs so hard tears start coming out of his eyes. Playing American Football, that is.          

*

Kuroko researches the Shinryuuji Nagas ahead of time, and he comes up with a plan. Their game starts with Deimon on offense, and Kuroko and Sena pull off a perfected Devil’s Dragonfly, much to the immense ire of Agon. (Sena is a much better quarterback than he was last year. Kuroko thinks Deimon probably would have had a fighting chance with Sena as their QB all along. He’s just a far superior runningback.)

Deimon wins by two points. Agon almost hits Kuroko after the game, but is stopped by his twin brother.

It would have been absolutely worth getting punched just to see Agon’s wrath after the win.

After the Awards Ceremony, Sena smiles at Kuroko and says, “Thank you, Tetsuya.”

“We’re still not finished yet,” Kuroko reminds him. “We still need to win the Christmas Bowl.”

Sena nods. “We _will_ win,” he says. “But—I honestly wasn’t sure we could make it this far without Hiruma. Someday I’ll probably have to play against him, you know? It’s a terrifying thought. If I couldn’t make it to the Christmas Bowl without Hiruma, I’m not sure I could ever have the confidence to win against him in the future. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

 _You’re wrong,_ Kuroko wants to say. _I should be thanking you._ _You and the rest of the Devilbats._

He doesn’t say it though. Not yet.

He will thank them properly after the Christmas Bowl.

*

He sees the teams they played against in quite a few social settings. Hiruma arranges an extravagant party after winning the Finals, and Kuroko is surprised by how many of their old opponents attend. Hiruma has also somehow conned them in to helping train the Devilbats for the upcoming match against Teikoku.

Kuroko thought the basketball clubs had a fairly commendable inter-school relationship—in part because of the Teiko days. But it’s nothing compared to the friendly welcome between American Football clubs. He would have expected more resentment towards Deimon for being the Kanto champions twice in a row, but there’s not.

Of course, now that he knows how many people are _dating_ someone on the Deimon team, it is perhaps less surprising how well everyone gets along.

The relationships in general have altered how Kuroko views the American Football players. He doesn’t doubt Sena and Monta, but even knowing the truth now, it is still hard to tell who is a couple.

Sena and Shin stand near each other. Every now and then their hands will brush up against each other and linger there, but it never goes further than that. The only difference is, occasionally Shin will smile at Sena, and it is an expression Kuroko does not see Shin bestow on anyone or anything else.

Kid and Tetsuma have no outward displays of affection. Rather, they possess the air of an old married couple, instead of newlyweds.

Kuroko tries not to stare too much at Kurita, Gaou and Kisaragi. It still boggles the mind.

Monta spends most of his time talking to the other receivers. When Kuroko catches him alone he asks, “Are you nervous about playing Taka-san?”

Nah,” Monta says, rubbing his nose. “If anything, I’m sad. It’ll be our last game against each other, you know? I won’t be able to play next year.”

“There is always college,” Kuroko says.

“That’s true!” Monta brightens.

“Do you enjoy playing against him?” Kuroko asks. “Wouldn’t you rather be on the same team?’

“We were on the same team once, in the Youth Cup,” Monta says. “It was fun. But, I don’t know. You really come alive in a battle, you know?”

Kuroko shakes his head. “I was never so happy as when I played basketball with the one I loved. The Christmas Bowl would be perfect if he was on the field with me, wearing Deimon’s uniform.”

Monta beams and slaps him on the back, startling Kuroko. “That’s the first time you said you want to be on the field! I’m glad, Tetsu!”

Kuroko blinks. He hadn’t meant it that way, of course. Right? He only meant he wished to play with Kagami.

But if he could suddenly go back to Seirin _tomorrow…_ he wouldn’t. Not until after the Christmas Bowl.

“One more game,” Kuroko says. “We have to win once more.”

“We will, Max,” Monta says.

*

He’s surprised Hiruma isn’t lurking around, waiting for the chance to talk to him. Hiruma has checked in with Kuroko before all the other major games. Maybe it’s a sign that the former QB finally trusts Kuroko with his team.

He wants to see Kagami. He’s finally read to tell him everything.

One more game. Just one more game. Win or lose, he’ll tell Kagami everything after the Christmas Bowl.

*

The Teikoku players are defeated champions, and those are always the most dangerous opponents. Because on a whole, their players are much, much stronger than Deimon, but now they’re playing like they’ve got something to prove.

But Deimon has something to prove as well.

Kuroko has something to prove.

Kagami is in the bleachers, somewhere. Kuroko plays, knowing the one he loves is watching.

Deimon wins.

*

The American Football players are leaving the stands and running onto the field, and Kagami wants to join them.

But he can’t. He doesn’t quite understand why all the rival teams wanted Deimon to win so badly, but he knows that somehow, Deimon’s triumph is _their_ triumph. When they run onto the field after the win it’s because this is a celebration where Kagami does not belong.

So he watches. He watches everyone throw Kuroko in the air—they’re taking turns tossing all the Deimon players.

He’s so damned impressed with Kuroko, it hurts. It doesn’t matter what sport he’s playing, Kuroko is still the most amazing player Kagami has ever known.

He’s happy for Kuroko. He’s pretty sure he is.

He just wishes it had been their triumph.

 _I’ll never get to win with Kuroko again,_ Kagami thinks.

He turns away before he starts crying. He’ll talk to Kuroko tomorrow.

*

“Kagami-kun.”

He turns back. Kuroko catches up with him—he’s breathless and exhausted from the game, his face still flush with victory. “Please wait, Kagami-kun. There is so much I would like to discuss with you.”

“Later,” Kagami says gruffly. “You should celebrate with your team now.”

Kuroko looks taken aback at the phrase “your team.”

“You should celebrate with us!” Number 21 says, coming up from behind. “Um, Kagami-kun, yes? It’s nice to meet you!”

“Uh, same,” Kagami says. Eyeshield 21, Ace and Captain of the Devilbats.

“Yes, come join us, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says. “I would like to introduce you to the Devilbats.”

“Alright,” Kagami says, because he still hasn’t mastered the art of telling Kuroko “no.”

They slowly make their way out of the stadium. Kagami is the only one who is not a football player, but he’s not the only one who doesn’t go to Deimon. Number 21 seems to be holding hands with Shin Seijuro. Kagami gapes when he sees Teikoku’s receiver bend down and kiss Number 80. He’s not sure he’s seeing things right. Maybe it’s a Japanese football thing.

“Uh, Kuroko?” he asks.

Kuroko smiles. “Yes, Kagami-kun?”

The bastard absolutely knows what’s throwing Kagami for a loop, so Kagami just scowls and refuses to give Kuroko the satisfaction of asking the question.

The Seirin basketball club had all _known_ about Kuroko and Kagami, and they’d been supportive in their own, occasionally obnoxious, way. But Kagami wouldn’t have dared hold Kuroko’s hand in front of them.

Maybe this was the appeal of Deimon? But if so, why couldn’t Kuroko just _tell_ Kagami that?

Still. Kagami’s hand twitches in Kuroko’s direction. If everyone else is doing it…

_“Tetsuya.”_

Everyone stops. Kagami turns to the sound of the voice, and he sees an old woman wearing a traditional kimono standing next to a limousine and three intimidating men in suits. She radiates rage.

Kagami turns to Kuroko. Kuroko looks resigned and broken and thoroughly defeated.

“Hello, Grandmother.”

*

The Christmas Bowl was an incredibly publicized event. Kuroko is not surprised she would have found out about it. He is surprised that she has immediately come all this way to forcibly drag him home. He expected her to retrieve him tomorrow, in private.

“How dare you?” his grandmother says, her face contorting in rage. “I _thought_ I had made my feelings on this matter _very_ clear. I was sure you were aware of the consequences of your disobedience.”

 “I have no broken the terms of our agreement,” Kuroko says, a small rebelliousness firing within him. “You only said I could not play basketball.”

He feels Kagami stiffen beside him. This was not how he wanted Kagami to find out. But, he supposed it was his own fault for taking so long to explain things.

“And what about _him_?” Grandmother says, flicking her eyes disdainfully over Kagami. “Are you really going to tell me _this_ is not a breach of our agreement?”

Kuroko flinches. Because she’s right. American Football might have been the loophole Kuroko deliberately chose to flaunt in rebellion, but Kagami _was_ a breach in their contract.

“Come with me, Tetsuya. We have much to discuss.”

It’s all over now. Everything. She will send him to some school abroad now—she will have guardians reporting his every move to her. What little freedom he had left is gone, and he will never see Kagami again.

He looks back—not just at Kagami, but at the Devilbats.

 _I don’t regret it,_ he thinks. _This was my last defiance and I don’t regret it at all._

He takes a resigned step forward.

*

His savior comes from an unlikely source.

“Kuroko Nagisa, CEO of KME industries. Refused to pay for your sick daughter-in-law’s hospital bills unless your homosexual grandson quit the basketball club and married a woman of your choosing. My, my, whatever would your shareholders think of _that_ scandal?” Hiruma cackles, holding up his threat notebook. Kuroko gapes at him.

“And what do we have here?” Hiruma steps forward and whispers something to his grandmother. Kuroko has seen Hiruma hold his threatbook and whisper to a dozen different times and the results are always the same. He has no idea what Hiruma’s saying but he desperately wishes he could hear because Grandmother looks like she’s having an apoplexy.

“How _dare_ you?” she hisses. “How do you even—”

“You certainly wouldn’t want your shareholders knowing _that_ now would you?” Hiruma cackles again.

“If you think you can _threaten_ me, young man—”

Hiruma waves his threat notebook. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I _can._ We have a celebration to get to—don’t you have somewhere _you_ need to be?”

Grandmother narrows her eyes. Without another word she gets into the limo and drives away.

Kuroko continues to gape at Hiruma. “What did you _say_ to her?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, fucking phantom,” Hiruma smirks. “I told you things would be easier if you didn’t try to do everything on your own, didn’t I? Now get to it, you bastards, I wasn’t kidding about the celebration. I booked us a fucking cruise ship and it charges by the hour.”

Which shouldn’t matter at all, Kuroko thinks; his head spinning. It’s not like Hiruma ever had to pay for anything with his own money.        

*

“Well, we’ve known for awhile now,” Sena says, from Shin’s lap. He’s had two cocktails and Kuroko highly doubts he’s going to remember this conversation tomorrow. Sena is an extreme lightweight.

Five hours in to their celebration, and Kuroko is still reeling from what happened. He’s still not quite sure what _did_ happen. He thinks, five hours and some ill advised alcohol consumption later, that maybe he’s been saved. But he’s not _sure._ Part of him thinks it’s only temporary, and this might be his last night. Dawn will come, and with it, Kuroko’s end.

“What do you mean you’ve _known?_ ” Kuroko asks.

“Well, not all of it,” Sena confesses. “Hiruma said you were being blackmailed, and that’s why you couldn’t play basketball, and we should all ‘stop fucking asking questions already’ so we all stopped asking questions. Mind you, we spent some time thinking he meant _he_ was the one blackmailing you, but we figured you probably wouldn’t spend so much time learning how to shoot and play poker from him if that was true.”

“You never said anything,” Kuroko says, miffed.

“ _You_ never said anything,” Sena says. Then he nuzzles into Shin’s neck and falls asleep.

“You are a good quarterback,” Shin says awkwardly.

“Thank you,” Kuroko says, just as awkwardly.

*

He finds Kagami talking animatedly to Kakei Shun and Yamato Takeru about their time in America. (Kuroko’s still not sure why Teikoku comes to Deimon’s victory party. He suspects the free booze has something to do with it.) Kagami seems like he’s having a good time, so Kuroko doesn’t interrupt. Kagami doesn’t notice he’s there until he turns around and nearly runs into him.

“Gah! Don’t do that! How long were you there?”

“For awhile,” Kuroko admits. “Is Kagami-kun having a good time?”

“Yeah, that Hiruma guy sure knows how to throw a party.”

“Kagami-kun isn’t drinking,” Kuroko points out.

“I’m an athlete,” he says, by way of explanation. “I can’t believe _you’re_ drinking.”

“Not very much. I do not wish to wake up in a lion’s den.”

“What does that even mean?” Kagami asks, amused.

Kuroko shrugs. Silence descends. Kuroko wishes he could take Kagami away, tell him everything, kiss him senseless. This still feels like his last night on earth; he wants to spend it alone with Kagami.

“So that was your grandma, huh? She doesn’t look anything like you,” Kagami says casually.

“I take after my mother,” Kuroko says. He rushes forward before Kagami can say anything. “I’d like to introduce you to her. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Kagami says.

*

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Kagami-kun! I’ve heard so much about you! Thank you for always looking after my son.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Kagami says, looking flustered.

“Tetsuya was so stingy! He never even told me when his games were!’

Kuroko’s mother looks well today. She’s pale, and the hospital setting makes everything seem worse. But she’s animated and clearly excited by the chance to embarrass the hell out of her only child.

“And you’re so tall! I can’t believe you’re the same age as my son. Tetsuya, I am so impressed with your taste in men!”

Kuroko and Kagami both blush bright red; Kagami startling at this declaration.

“ _Mother,_ ” Kuroko says.

“This is my revenge for taking so long to introduce him to me,” his mother says cheerfully. “Kagami-kun, is everyone as large as you in America?”

“ _Mother._ ”

*

“She is absolutely nothing like you!” Kagami exclaims afterwards.

They’re sitting at a bench facing an empty basketball court. They should be in Maji Burger, but Kuroko still feels like Grandmother’s spies might pop up at any moment.

“Personality-wise, I am more like my father,” Kuroko acknowledges.

Kagami rubs the back of his neck. “So—is she going to be OK?”

“With the proper treatment, she should be able to leave the hospital soon and make a full recovery,” Kuroko says.

With the proper treatment.

“Did you grandma really blackmail you into quitting basketball?” Kagami asks.

Kuroko takes in a deep breath. “I should probably explain from the beginning.”

Kagami waits.

“My father was the only son of the CEO for KME Industries. But he eloped with my mother and was disinherited. I did not have much to do with my father’s side of the family, even after he died.

“I suppose I should explain that my parents always knew about my sexual preferences. They did not mind. My grandmother, as you can guess, _does._ But I am the last chance for a direct heir. When my mother got sick, my grandmother agreed to pay for the bills, as long as I agree to take over the company and marry a woman of her choosing.”

Kagami flinches. He doesn’t want to think about that. “But what does that have to do with _basketball?_ ”

“I believe she considered my sports activity to be the root of my ‘deviancy.’ She also knew about _you,_ Kagami-kun. She had me transfer to Deimon to separate me from you. She knew Deimon had a weak basketball club, so I believe she assumed it was a way of assuring I would not join that club. It was unnecessary; I would not have joined a basketball club regardless. She put that in the contract we both signed.”

“So you joined the American Football club as a way of getting revenge,” Kagami guesses.

“That is correct. It was my own small rebellion.”

Kagami clenches his fists. “But why didn’t you just _tell_ me any of this? I would’ve understood! We could’ve handled this _together!_ ”

Kuroko starts shaking as tears threaten to come. He swallows hard and wills himself not to cry. “She ordered me to break up with you. I signed the contract saying I would. But I could not. If I told you everything, I would have to end it with you. I thought—I thought if I just disappeared it would be the same thing. You could—move on with your life. I am very sorry for my cowardice and my betrayal, Kagami-kun. You deserved so much better.”

“Your damn right I did!” Kagami shouts. “God, Kuroko. You’re such an idiot.” He aggressively ruffles Kuroko’s hair—just enough to be uncomfortable, not enough to actually hurt. “You didn’t have to go through all of this alone.”

It’s what Hiruma said. Coming from Kagami, Kuroko starts to think this was true. He should have trusted Kagami from the start.

“So—is she going to stop paying for your mom’s treatment?” Kagami asks.

Kuroko hesitates. “I do not believe so. I was the one who insisted on a contract. Playing American Football does not violate the terms of our agreement. You—do.”

“There’s no way you can get out of this? Even after your mom’s better?”

“If—I pay her back, I probably could.” Kuroko thinks about poker, but dismisses it immediately. It might make him a lot of money, but it might also leave him shot and left in the Las Vegas desert to die.

“Then we’ll find a way to pay her back,” Kagami says.

“Kagami-kun—?” Kuroko says.

“I love you, Kuroko. If we can’t be together now, I’ll wait until we can. When we’ve saved enough money, when we can free ourselves from her. However long it takes.”

Kuroko buries his head in his hands. “Kagami-kun says such embarrassing things.”

“Shut up, bastard. You have to tell me everything from now on, OK? You can’t disappear again.”

“Yes, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko says.

*

He still can’t see Kagami the way he wants to. And his grandmother can’t prove he’s been doing anything “deviant” so she lets him finish up the year at Deimon as an American Football player.

The Spring Graduation is an emotional time for the Devilbats, because it means so many things. The senpais are officially leaving—going to college or to their jobs. Either way, they’re no longer Deimon Devilbats. It also means the retirement of the Second Years from the American Football Club.

For Kuroko, this is bittersweet. He is glad he got to play American Football. He is thankful for what it did for him—a saving light when everything was dark and misery. But he can’t stop thinking about his Seirin senpai. Hyuuga, Coach, Kiyoshi, Izuki—everyone who is graduating and going _their_ separate ways. He wishes he could have played for them during their last year.

But he cannot deny that he also owes Hiruma Yoichi a great deal.

He goes to see the Devil of Deimon one last time.

“Congratulations on getting in to Saikyoudai University,” Kuroko says again. “You will have an undefeatable team.”

“Heh, maybe. Things won’t get interesting until my second year.”

When Sena and Monta will be in college. They won’t be able to get in to Saikyoudai, surely Hiruma knows this.

But maybe that’s what he wants. Worthy opponents that he’s trained himself.

“I wouldn’t mind matching against you,” Kuroko says. And he’s surprised by the fact that this is true. Kuroko would like to battle Hiruma as a quarterback.

“That’d be an interesting fight, fucking phantom. But it’s not a battle we’ll ever see. You won’t be playing American Football in college.”

“I might,” Kuroko says.

“No. If you play in college, you’ll be playing fucking basketball.”

Hiruma has a devious smirk on his face, (granted, this is more or less Hiruma’s default expression), so Kuroko knows Hiruma is up to something. “What do you mean?” he asks politely.

“I’ve paid off your grandma and the rest of the hospital bills. Well. I guess I should say, _someone’s_ money has paid those debts. It wasn’t necessarily mine.”

Hiruma has a wide network of people he blackmails. His bank account is hefty but not, strictly speaking, his money.

Kuroko’s head whirls.

“Or did you not want to accept my blood money?” Hiruma says, raising a brow at him.

“After everything I have done because of my grandmother, I would not care if the money had actual blood on it,” Kuroko says truthfully.

Hiruma cackles. “I knew you were like me.”

“I am confused,” Kuroko says. “Why would you do this?”

“You’re a useful guy, fucking phantom. And now you owe me instead of your fucking grandma. I can make much better use of you than she can.”

“As one of your slaves,” Kuroko asks.

“Minion, more like,” Hiruma says graciously. “You’re a decent poker player and a good shot. You’ll come in handy someday. I figure it’ll be useful to have a tie to the basketball in Japan. Win for me all around.”

“I can play basketball,” Kuroko says, still trying to wrap his head around this new information.

“You can go back to Seirin,” Hiruma says.

Kuroko’s breath hitches.

“You kinda have to, actually,” Hiruma continues. “I’ve already submitted your transfer papers.”

There is a long silence.

“Why?” Kuroko asks. “Why would you do this for me?”

Hiruma snorts. “Don’t go thinking I’m a nice guy, fucking phantom. I could have done this sooner but I didn’t. If Deimon still needed you next year, I wouldn’t be doing it now. But you can’t play for us your third year, so you might as well go back to a basketball team that can win.”

“Hiruma-san isn’t a nice person,” Kuroko agrees. “If you had done this sooner, I would have still played American Football for you, but I could have been with Kagami-kun.”

Hiruma rolls his eyes—Kuroko’s love life is clearly not important to him—“It was better this way, fucking phantom. Your revenge was a better motivator.”

Kuroko opens his mouth but Hiruma kicks him from behind as he walks past. “Don’t get mushy, fucking phantom. I own you now.”

Hiruma walks away before Kuroko can thank him.

“That guy,” Musashi says, shaking his head. “Never wants you to think he’s nice.”

Kuroko hadn’t noticed Musashi and Mamori watching the exchange. He wonders what Hiruma’s boyfriend and girlfriend think of the encounter.

“This is Hiruma-kun’s way of thanking you, Kuroko-kun,” Mamori says. “I think he feels he owes you a lot.”

 Kuroko stares after Hiruma. Maybe, he thinks. Maybe he does. Probably he just wanted another slave. Kuroko has the distinct feeling that all that’s happened is the exchange of one contract with the devil for a contract with a different devil.

He thinks about this and decides he doesn’t mind.

He knows which devil he prefers.

 

~Epilogue~

“The best part of you being gone for a year is now everyone’s forgotten your lack of presence,” Furihata says, pleased. “It’s like a reset! All the teams we played in the first year have to get used to you all over again!”

Kuroko smiles. The Seirin Third Years welcomed his return. Kuroko hadn’t expected that—he knew he hadn’t earned their forgiveness. But he was willing to devote his final year of high school making it up to Seirin. The Second Years still eye him with mistrust—they heard so much about the absent shadow they can’t help but resent his sudden re-appearance. The First Years are adorable, and impressed by the fact that Kuroko used to play American Football.

Kagami snorts. “The best part is the improved stamina. I don’t know what those Deimon guys did to you, but you can outrun me now and I sorta resent that.”

“Come on the Death March with me some time, Kagami-kun.”

“I still don’t believe you did that. No one can do that. That is ridiculously stupid.”

It is unbelievable. His time in Deimon seems like a strange dream.

Sena is in America now. Apparently, he was invited to play in Notre Dame, and Kuroko is glad for him. He knows how much the runningback dreaded not being able to play his Third Year, and now he can.

In his last email, Kuroko wrote:

_I want you to know that I do not regret my time there. I am glad I was a briefly a Devilbat with you, Sena-kun._

Sena wrote back:

_Don’t be silly, Tetsuya. Once a Devilbat, always a Devilbat! That won’t ever change no matter what sport you’re playing._

Kuroko feels pleased. This InterHigh and Winter Cup, Kuroko will show the basketball world how a Devilbat plays on the court.

The other schools won’t even see him coming.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings of Serious Things:
> 
> There are some mentions of suicidal thoughts and depression. Some implied/mentions of underage sex (but absolutely nothing explicit). Also underage drinking (which is in line with canon for ES21). 
> 
> Warnings of Crack Things:
> 
> So, other pairings include Monta/Taka Honjou, Tetsuma/Kid, Sakuraba/Takami. All mentioned in passing. There is also mentions of Hiruma/Mamori/Musashi. And the ultimate crack pairing: Kurita/Gaou/Kisaragi. Because apparently I ship it, even though I'm no doubt the only one in the world who does.


End file.
